


30/30 - The Challenge

by Darklady, offpanel_archivist, Smittywing (Smitty), trixiechick



Series: Martian Manlove [42]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Martian Manhunter (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-01
Updated: 2005-01-01
Packaged: 2019-08-20 08:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 58,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16552142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darklady/pseuds/Darklady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/offpanel_archivist/pseuds/offpanel_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smitty/pseuds/Smittywing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixiechick/pseuds/trixiechick
Summary: Stories by Chicago, Darklady, nw's chick, SKH, Smitty, StarStorm, ManEaterLad, Hotspur





	30/30 - The Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> Year 2 in the J'onnverse, after "Paper."

30/30 - Opening Credits

A collaborative fanfiction with stories and ideas from 'rith, Chicago, Darklady, Hotspur,  
ManEaterLad, nw's chick, SKH, Smitty, and StarStorm.

Disclaimers: This series of stories makes use of characters that are owned by DC  
Comics. They were borrowed for fun and not for profit.

Continuity note: Year 2 in the J'onnverse, after "Paper."

Canon Notes:

Challenge: Clark Kent's renown as a novelist is canon; his nom de plum "Lavender  
Larkspur" is a J'onnverse invention compliments of Darklady. J'onn graciously plays  
the part of Lavender when book tours and publicity stills are requested by Clark's  
publisher.

Show Business: Plasticman's son Luke was introduced in JLA #65. Eel's real first name  
is Patrick as revealed in JLA #50. Lyrics from "I'm Gonna Wash that Man Right out of  
my Hair" copyright 1941.

Tales from the Bloody Rudder: The Wayne family history has been cobbled together  
from various Bat books and borrows from the Legend of Leatherwing among others.

Just Casing the Joint: J'onn's Goldie Johnston identity appears in MM #26. She was  
working for the World Register and at that point was arguing about the sidebarring of  
her story on Martians building the Sphinx.

Going to the Dogs: The Bathound reference is a tribute to canon stories gone by which  
don't quite fit the J'onnverse continuity and seemed to have been retconned out of  
comic continuity as well.

The Bodyguard: J'onn's affection for movies is canonical, particularly noted in the  
American Dreams mini. The movie and accompanying song are copyright 1992.

Don't Try this at Home: "Space Trek" was a show in the DCU which included Garfield  
Logan among its stars.

Empty Orchestra: Tana was Superboy's girlfriend, killed during "Sins of Youth."

Divides: Barry Allen's final walk of earth struck me as something I must have pulled out  
of canon, but I don't think it is. It would be during Crisis on Infinite Earths if it's from  
anything.

Workout: Ollie and Bruce did at one time see each other socially, while Ollie was still  
rich and less politically motivated.

Is that a Rabbit in Your Pocket?: Who Framed Roger Rabbit? is copyright 1988. The  
Song "Why Don't you Do Right?" is copyright 1942.

May I Have This Dance?: J'onn's identities, as explained in the MM monthly, are usually  
derived from real people who died prematurely. He has a few identities that were  
never real people.

Late Night Double Feature: The semi-organic nature of Martian tech is touched on in  
JLA: New World Order and elsewhere. J'onn's cabinets full of Chocos are canon,  
particularly in the JLI days. Paco really was a break-dancer as well as the superhero  
Vibe before he was killed by a Professor Ivo android (Detroit JLA). J'onn's ability to  
project images of what people think they are seeing was demonstrated most recently in  
JLA #57. Canonically at various points, Bruce has slept with Ivy (very early on),  
Catwoman, and Talia. The MM "Ghosts" Annual reveals J'onn's love of his Chevy  
Impala, as well as the demise of that car. J'onn loves to drive, and canonically gets  
towed often (various issues of MM). Chicago (the movie) is copyright 2002 . "All that  
Jazz" is copyright 1957.

For a Song: ok, just in case no one cares... the four players in the gay mob soap opera  
were based on some of my favorite anime characters. only two of them were  
recognizable. since no one cares...

Hidden Beauty: John Johnstone (one of J'onn's identities) helped on the Kent farm  
during Clark Kent's youth (MM #20 and Action Comics #774). Tomasso the cat  
appeared as one of J'onn's identities in MM #17 and that identity was killed in MM #31.

Jazz: The Pour House was the site of Batman's confrontation with Matatoa in GK #16.  
Batman's invitation to the jazz club and his first visit there are from the Batman: Jazz  
mini. J'onn's first meeting with Batman as the Bronze Wraith is presented in MM #22.  
The League's publicity visit to Gotham and the resulting battle, as well as Batman's  
displeasure at their presence, come from JLA: Year One. The history of Batman  
bringing J'onn to the club is elaborated from the story J'onn told Barbara about the  
event in the story "Homecoming."

Rating: stories run from G to NC-17

Archive: Batslash and Martian Manlove page. Others please ask.

**********************************

30/30: The Challenge  
by Chicago and Darklady

Disclaimers in "Opening Credits".

Rating: R

Bruce paused in the doorway of his bedroom, surprised for a moment. He *hadn't*  
imagined the smirk in Alfred's eyes; the old man *had* been hiding something from  
him. Or rather, not mentioning something. Or more to the point, not mentioning  
*someone*.

The huge bed was a spacious playground for the beauty lounging there now. Wisps of  
fabric that *might* have passed for a robe draped over her, a flutter of chiffon with a  
line of feathers that rested just at the juncture where ass met thigh. Slim legs kicked up  
at the knee, stirring the air lazily with matching feathered mules. She hadn't looked up,  
apparently engrossed by the printer's galleys that spread over the bed around her. A  
sweet touch, playing unaware. Letting him clear his throat and purr, "To what do I owe  
this unexpected pleasure?" as he entered the room and closed the door.

Light green eyes lifted, lit by the lazy smile that curled the lips beneath them. "Chapter  
2," she answered, gesturing at the pages around her. "Remind your lover that you can  
surprise him."

Bruce smiled and sat on an unpapered edge of the bed, leaning down to the pale pink  
lips she raised to him. "You needed a book to inspire you?" he asked teasingly when  
they broke apart, tracing a hand down her cheek and along the line of her jaw.

Lavender closed her eyes at the contact. "Never," she answered throatily, leaning her  
cheek into his palm, "but I had to do something while I waited for you to come home."

Bruce lifted an eyebrow and pulled over a stack of pages. "'Chapter 5: Spicing Things  
Up,'" he read. "A romance help book?"

Lavender stretched indulgently and shifted to her side. "I figure if I am going to have to  
tour this book, I should know what I wrote."

A corner of Bruce's mouth curled into a smirk. "This is _Clark's_ latest opus?"

Lavender reached out a finger and placed it firmly over Bruce's lips. "Don't you dare  
laugh."

Bruce shook his head and kissed the stilling finger. "Don't tell me you think there's  
something to this advice?"

Lavender shrugged. "I have no idea. I am still rather mystified at human mating  
practices. Maybe an instruction manual *is* needed."

Bruce snorted. "Please. And people are going to take advice from a romance novelist?  
Who gets his facts wrong to boot?"

Lavender pouted and flounced into a sitting position. "Bru-uce," she protested, tossing  
her honey blonde tresses. "People believe in my work. My public needs me."

"Your _public_," he reminded her, sweeping an arm around her and pushing her back  
among the papers with a kiss, "is being duped by a pair of aliens." His lips moved lower  
down her throat, playing with whisper touches across the soft skin there. He felt her  
swallow hard, then her hands were at his shoulders, pushing him up.

"Bruce, at least let's not crumple the galleys."

"Fine," Bruce agreed amiably, helping her gather up the papers. He turned one stack  
over to find the cover page. "'Revive your Romance: Tips for Putting Zest Back in Your  
Love Life collected by Lavender Larkspur.'" He looked up at his lover incredulously.  
"He didn't even write this? He *collected* it?"

"He wrote parts of it, I think," Lavender answered, holding out her hands to add Bruce's  
stack of pages to her own.

"What did he - no, never mind. I don't want to know."

"Good." Lavender stretched out to set the galleys on an end table, the gesture causing  
her "robe" to drape in very... interesting ways. She turned back to him with half-lidded  
eyes. "Because I don't want to *talk* romance."

Bruce nodded, reaching his fingers out to the edge of the robe, pushing it back from  
where the feathered edge rested across Lavender's pert breast. The brush of the  
feathers stiffened her nipple to attention, and Bruce caught the rising flesh between his  
thumb and forefinger. "Duly noted," he murmured, then set his lips to more  
appreciated work.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The door to the monitor womb whisked open, and Superman looked up to see Batman  
stalking toward him, a portfolio binder in his hands. "J'onn asked me to return this to  
you," the Dark Knight stated without inflection.

Superman accepted it with a slight smirk. "So'd you read it?" he asked.

"Cl.. Kal." The dark knight stiffened ever so slightly, covered in the Watchtower's  
programmed shadows. "I hardly think that some... housewife in Coast City... is the best  
advisor for *my* romantic life."

"You're right. Not enough imagination." Superman's trademark farm boy smile spread  
farther, taking a puckish edge. "So...? Lets see what a more...venturesome...group can  
come up with." Broad hands merged into a general blur over the touch-pad keyboard.  
"Oraclenet/meta/socialchat/alt."

"You d..." Black gloved hands reach out.

"Relax, Br...Batman." Both Superman and the keyboard moved wisely out of range. "I  
didn't use your name." The raised eyebrow added 'either of them'. One flawless nail  
underlined the single line of text.

BIG BLUE -

QUESTION? LIMITED TO THIS PLANET _ WHAT WOULD YOU SUGGEST AS AN  
IDEAL DATE?

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Bruce Wayne sat easily in the high-backed chair, flipping though the fan pleated list  
that had just been - quite literally - dropped in his lap. "Why..."

Clark Kent settled lightly into a second chair, brushing back the single curl that had  
fallen forward during his flight. "I believe in my work."

"Even..." The wave to the bookshelf was almost general, but both men knew Bruce  
meant the row of Lavender Larkspur paperbacks. The thin volumes filled most of a  
row, the bright spines and curled covers contrasted with the gold-edged bindings of the  
more mint volumes above and below.

Clark thumbed the pages of his newest applicant to their ranks. "This advice book may  
not be exactly my next best Pulitzer hope - but" His voice dropped down, almost  
imperceptibly. "I would not have put my name on it..." At a *look* from an fragile  
blonde sipping hot chocolate on the sofa, Clark corrected. "Well, *her* name on it." He  
shrugged the detail off. "What I'm saying is...I wouldn't just put something out if I  
didn't think it had *some* merit."

"Which in this case is...?" One raised eyebrow added the question mark.

"To break couples out of their ruts." Clark looked over to 'Lavender', obviously seeking  
support. "To help them see... the possibilities."

Bruce leaned forward. He had caught the look, and the Bat had long past broken any  
impulse to pull the blows when an opponent weakened. "By..."

Clark rallied. "By doing something new. Something they might not have had the  
courage to suggest on their own. Something that might help them learn more about  
their partners - about themselves." Blue eyes met darker blue, confident now. "Aren't  
you the one who is always insisting we must *exceed* what we believe we can do?"

"One does not *train* for one's ... love life." The revived ghost of Solomon Wayne - and  
countless other Wayne patriarchs since and before - echoed in that shocked sentence.

This time it was Clark Kent with the raised eyebrow - and Bruce Wayne that called for  
help. "J'onn.. you would never..."

"Actually, Bruce." A tall green male was now holding Lavenders chocolate. "I do not  
know enough about humans to make a definitive statement." He nibbled the edge of a  
fudge-dripped strawberry. "However, on Mars there *was* a period of transformative  
contemplation when..."

"Deal, Bruce." Clark shifted again - into his editor persona. "You try it. Thirty days.  
Nights." His eyes moved from Bruce to J'onn then back to Bruce. "If both of you say  
you leaned *nothing*? Nothing at all? I pull the book."

"But my publishers!" Lavender Larkspur pressed one delicate hand to her throat. "The  
book is practically..."

"It's not on the press yet. If I... you... say they pull it? It's dead. I can give them a cook  
book instead. " Clark stood, holding out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

To be continued...

******************date 1***********************

30/30: The First Date  
by Darklady

Disclaimers in "Opening Credits".

Rating: G

For the first time in memory Bruce Wayne strolled though the glowing halls of the JLA  
Watchtower.

As he passed, the Green Lantern looked up from his sketchpad. "Date night?"

Wayne's usually agile fingers fumbled a bit on his tie. Unfortunately Superman's use of  
the JLA line had assured that *everyone* knew about the bet. Well - Bruce conceded in  
a regrettable moment of fairness - everyone who was a full member of the JLA on  
current active status. Which was still at least one and quite possibly five people too  
many.

"Nice suit." Kyle stroked a few lines at the top of the sheet then set it down. "Where are  
you going?"

"Dinner in Paris."

"Whooo. Some folks know who to do it right!" Plas shot his own hands into a ceiling-  
steep high-five.

The nearest door slid open.

"Double that Whoo-hoo", The humorous hero's eyes bulged - several inches - while his  
neck traced a series of 90 degree turns.

J'onn struck a 'model' pose. At least - everyone assumed it was J'onn. There really  
wasn't anyone else on the station that could carry off that dress. Or that body.

Shockingly exotic, a single swatch of near-transparent gold silk tucked and twisted from  
tightly beaded sable hair, over at least six feet of cafe au lait skin, and at length puddled  
around gold-painted toenails.

Bruce froze.

Kyle reached for his sketch pad.

Superman flew in from the observation deck. "Nice dress. Mondovatti, isn't it?"

At four shocked gasps, he explained. "Photographic memory. Plus, Lois made me cover  
his Paris show."

"Oui." J'onn - the presumed J'onn - sashayed over and finished knotting Bruce's tie. "Les  
Lyons deserves no less."

Superman seemed excessively interested in that announcement. "Les Lyons, eh?" He  
floated over to the pair. "In Paris, I assume?"

Bruce Wayne straightened his cuff links. "Les Lyons is hardly a chain."

"So for your first 'date'..." Superman's eyes narrowed. "You are going to dinner. In  
Paris. At your *favorite* restaurant. Where the chef ... if I recall our *last* lunch there...  
not only knows you by name but has the Grillade de Coquilles on the table *before*  
you sit down."

Two men looked confused.

One... woman... looked uncertain.

Bruce Wayne *smirked*. "It was on the list. By name."

Which Superman didn't doubt. Les Lyons was a 'new' name on the Paris food scene,  
but a daily more famous one. Still... "The purpose of the 'dates' is to try something  
new."

Plas added another two inches to his eye-balls. In J'onn's direction. "Tha..that's  
something new, all right."

Everyone ignored him.

Superman settled into a more human pose. "You gave your word, Bruce."

There was a *very* quiet pause before Bruce Wayne turned to his companion. Taking  
the lady's hand gently in his own, he asked. "What would you say to Maison l'Argent,  
my dear? I hear the chef is supposed to be... quite original."

To be continued...

**********date 2********************

30/30: Try the Crab  
by Chicago

Disclaimers in "Opening Credits".

Rating: PG

"Aurora, there you are, darling!" Bruce Wayne effused, breezing up beside the elegant  
socialite an attendant divested her of her wrap.

Aurora offered a high society smile and accepted Bruce's arm. "Lovely party, Brucie.  
All the right people are here."

"I always aim to please," he preened, leading her across the room and claiming some  
champagne glasses for both of them.

Aurora accepted the glass he offered with a gracious expression. "Thank you, Brucie."

"Of course, my dear. Oh, and you MUST try the crab," he suggested, plucking some  
hors d'oeurves from a passing waiter's tray. "It's truly phenomenal."

Before Bruce could say another word, Aurora had swept closer, snugging her body  
close to his. Her lips brushed with feather lightness over his mouth, her tongue slipping  
out to urge his lips open. Then she pressed against him, her tongue thoroughly  
exploring his mouth as her lips moved hungrily. There was a sound of a champagne  
flute bouncing off the carpet, although the splash of alcohol did not distract either of  
them from the depth of their kiss.

Aurora had to press a hand to Bruce's chest to steady him when they finally pulled  
apart, and she could feel his heart racing. "You're right," she purred. "The crab IS  
phenomenal."

To be continued...

***********date 3********************

Datus Interruptus  
By Chicago

Disclaimers in "Opening Credits".

Rating: PG-13

"Damn! Jesse get me in closer!" Arsenal hollered, bracing himself in the open bay door  
of the T-jet. "Argent, Troia - they're getting too close to landfall."

"They've lost interest in us, Roy," Donna's voice crackled over the receiver. "They're  
too caught up in their own battle."

"Shit! Jesse-" Arsenal half-ducked as a rocket zoomed too close to the T-jet, the sound  
deafening as the jet bounced between the pull of its own evasive maneuver and the  
wash of the missile.

*"Arsenal!"* Jesse's voice barked. "You still with me? Arsenal!"

"I'm here. *Head's up, Tempest!*" he shouted as the missile splashed into the Atlantic.

"I see it," Garth reported calmly. A moment later a spout of water came shooting up  
from the ocean.

*"Garth!"*

The answering line was staticky. "The projectiles are on a timer of some sort, designed  
to lodge before they explode. Look lively if they get another one off - you're getting  
awfully close to the shore line."

"Tell me something I don't know," Roy muttered, reshouldering his net cannon. What  
was it with giant robot armor people locked in mortal combat that compelled them to  
do so next to large population centers? He'd wonder what compelled them to pick  
Earth as their battle ground, but he'd already consigned that question to one of the  
mysteries of the cosmos. They came, superheroes stopped them. Just part of the job  
description.

"Tempest," he ordered, " see if you can raise a water wall to -"

"Working on it," Tempest replied. "They might already be too close to shore to get  
enough height..."

Arsenal's sharp eyes picked out the surging surf rising into the night, glinting from the  
sparks and flames produced by the battle. A battle which, while still raging, was  
becoming more stationary in the sky. "Perfect!" Arsenal yelled over the roar of the  
wind. "Jesse, another pass!"

"You got it," the speedster confirmed, arcing the T-jet into a wide turn.

Roy put his eye to the sight as Jesse wheeled to the land side of the battle, swinging the  
jet between Tempest's water wall and the fight. The smaller of the two armored robots  
had moved in on the larger, seemed now to be winning. Not that Roy cared - he just  
needed them a little closer together...

"Argent! Troia! Get clear!" he barked, his finger tightening on the trigger. He could see  
the smaller robot reaching back, seeming ready to toss its antagonist, the larger  
armored giant throwing back its head...

BAM! The recoil from the net cannon threw him back into the strapping he had  
anchored himself in, but he didn't take his eyes off the scene. The STAR Labs energy  
net unfurled almost gracefully as it shot through the air, expanding in a wide circle,  
catching on armor, wrapping...

A split second too late to stop the final defensive round of the larger robot. The air  
erupted with the contrail of a dozen missiles, and then the energy net tangled around  
both robots, sending them plunging toward the ocean.

"Stop the missiles! Jesse, turn us. Go! Go!" Arsenal was scrambling for another weapon,  
his eyes barely leaving the sky. He could see Donna and Toni catching rockets,  
detonating them, racing them through the falling water wall to the city skyline.  
"Garth," he warned, "you've got incoming."

"I'm on it. Worry about the missiles."

The jet swayed with Jesse's course changes, and Arsenal finally came up with the  
desired gun. A bow would be better, but under these conditions? He fired a shot faster  
than thought, and another explosion lit the sky. Folks on the ground probably thought  
they were watching fireworks.

Another shot, another explosion. He was aware of incendiary displays all around him  
as he stayed focus, and the conversation in his ear.

"Troia, I missed that one. Can you-"

"Hands full right now!" Another explosion lit the sky. "Arsenal? South south-west of  
your position- oh, SHIT!"

Arsenal squeezed off another shot. "What is it? Donna, talk to me!"

"Regency Tower. Dammit! I'm going in -"

"Argent, help her!" Arsenal barked, unleashing another round. The explosion he  
triggered was matched by another where he had last seen Toni, and then a silver-white  
form streaked across the sky.

"One more, Arsenal," Jesse said steadily, and Roy brought his gun back to his shoulder  
to blow the final rocket from the sky and pray that there were no casualties at the  
Regency Tower.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Troia shot through the air, following the arc of the missile that had just careened into  
the top floor of the Regency Tower. She could see where it punched through the east  
wall, plowing into the Tip Top restaurant. "Don't blow up," she whispered to herself.  
"Don't blow up, don't blow up, don't -"

She felt Argent streaking by her, beating her by half a second through the breach in the  
wall and to the missile. It made the difference as Argent threw up a containment shield  
just as the outer casing of the explosive began to crack.

Screams pierced the air as the roar from the contained detonation cracked the  
reinforced glass of the restaurant windows. Long practice and faith in her teammate  
allowed Donna to ignore the cacophony and the incandescent blast and scan the  
restaurant for wounded or dying. Luckily, the missile had pierced the building through  
the elevator shaft, slicing away from any tables. The relatively low number of patrons  
meant no one had been waiting to be seated, and the maitre-d' was standing nearby in  
shock, but unharmed. "Arsenal, we have contained the blast," she reported into her  
comlink as she moved to Toni's side. The younger woman was already trembling from  
exertion and reaction.

"Casualties?" Donna could hear how he didn't want to ask the question. She was just  
about to reassure him when a crashing sound echoed up from the elevator shaft. Toni  
turned wide eyes to Donna.

The elevator shaft, Donna cursed as she ordered, "Stay here," and dove down after the  
crashed elevator. The missile had cut through the elevator shaft and cut the cables...

How had she not noticed when she entered? Silly question, she knew - explosions,  
missiles, potential victims up top - but still. She hoped against hope that the elevator  
had been heading down empty to collect someone. From the length of time it had  
taken to crash? It had plummeted from near the top of its shaft. Ninety-three stories  
to the sub-basement.

She slowed, unconsciously hesitating as she neared the elevator car. There were two  
options, really, no matter how much she might want it to be otherwise. Either the car  
was empty, or whoever inside was a pulp. Maybe several pulps, mashed together  
unrecognizably. The last thing she expected was the screech of bending metal as the  
access panel atop the elevator begin to move, revealing a crack of light in the darkened  
shaft.

Troia wasted no time closing the final distance to the elevator. "Hold on," she called.  
"I'll help get you out!" She wrapped her fingers over the edge of access panel, noticing  
the pink-tipped nails that were curling around from the underside. "I'm going to pull  
off the panel," she warned, and the fingers let go.

"Troia, what's your status?" Arsenal's voice came over her comlink.

The metal groaned as Donna pried the panel from its twisted frame and peered into the  
elevator. "I've got survivors. I'll call you back."

She heard Argent's "Thank god," right before she closed her signal.

The interior of the elevator was lit by a small pen light, and a well dressed couple was  
staring up at her. "See, Bruce," the woman remarked, "superhero."

"Yes, I see," Bruce Wayne remarked dryly.

"Are you folks okay?" Troia asked, trying to keep her shock from her face.

"I'm fine," Bruce answered. "Susan?" His hand reached gently to his companion's  
cheek.

"A bit rattled," the brunette confessed, meeting Bruce's eyes, and suddenly Donna felt  
like she was intruding. "What on earth happened?" Susan asked, breaking the spell.

"We should get you out of here, have the paramedics take a look at you," Donna  
suggested.

Susan's green eyes darted up toward her. "Oh, no, it's nothing like that. Just a bit  
unnerved is all. But maybe Bruce..."

Shock, Donna decided, as Bruce Wayne shook his head and again said, "I'm fine. What  
did happen, anyway?" There was no way they were fine. Even if Bruce had some Bat-  
trick that kept them alive, his date was *way* too calm.

"How about if we decide about medical attention after I get you out of there?" Donna  
suggested, stretching down a hand.

"Good idea. Although if you need to take care of someone else-" Susan agreed,  
accepting a leg up from Bruce and reaching up to grasp Donna's hand.

"Everyone's fine. Just you two in the elevator."

There was a tearing sound as Donna pulled Susan from the elevator. "So much for this  
dress," Susan remarked ruefully. "Brucie, you're going to have to buy me a new one,"  
she called down.

Surreal, Donna reflected, settling Susan on her feet. "Are you sure you're okay?" she  
asked again, her eyes running over Susan's body. No blood, no visible broken bones.

"Hey, it's awfully dark down here," Bruce complained, and Donna realized Susan was  
holding the pen light.

"Hold on," Donna called. "Can you aim the light?" she asked Susan, who smiled in  
response.

"Sure," she replied, aiming the penlight toward the access panel. She was holding it at  
an angle, Donna noticed, such that it didn't shine down into Bruce's eyes but would  
allow him to see Donna's outstretched hand. A moment later, Bruce was also atop the  
elevator, reaching a possessive arm out to hook Susan's waist. They exchanged a quick  
kiss.

"Um, Troia, is it?" Bruce asked. "Listen, can you get us out of here discreetly? Away  
from any press or emergency workers or -"

Donna stared at him. "Mr. Wayne, you have just plunged hundreds of feet down an  
elevator shaft-"

"And I'm fine."

"Maybe you are. But your date-"

"Miss Troy."

Donna froze and turned to Susan. Except it wasn't Susan.

"We're both fine," Martian Manhunter assured her. "I was able to cushion our fall."

"J'onn," Bruce protested softly.

"She won't let us go otherwise," J'onn said quietly, morphing back into Susan's form  
and pressing a gentle kiss to Bruce's cheek. "Any more than you would in the same  
situation."

Bruce's expression remained stony, but he did not object.

*This is not what it looks like,* Donna told herself, trying not to gape.

Her eyes inadvertently met Susan's. *Yes it is,* she heard J'onn J'onzz say in her head.  
Aloud, though, Bruce Wayne's date said, "You won't mind if we see ourselves out?"

Donna could only shake her head numbly.

She watched, incredulous, as Susan wrapped her arms around Bruce Wayne, lifting into  
the air as she stretched to completely surround him. Suddenly they winked out of sight,  
invisible.

There was a ping in her ear, and she reopened her comlink. "Donna, what's going on?  
You need help?"

"No, no," Donna replied. "Everything's okay, Arsenal. Argent?"

"I'm about ready to turn things over to the local authorities. You need paramedics  
down there?"

"Negative."

"Troia? You said you had survivors." Arsenal sounded torn between concern and  
irritation.

"White hats," she offered, hoping that would suffice.

"What? Who? We had no -"

"In civvies," she explained, flying up the elevator shaft to join Toni. "On a date."

There was a snort over the line from Roy. "Sounds like their love life is like mine."

Donna thought about the tenderness with which J'onn had enfolded Bruce as they lifted  
into the air. "Or not," she murmured, touching down on the restaurant floor. "Come  
on, Argent," she ordered her younger teammate, "let's go home."

To be continued...

**********date 4****************

30/30 - Show Business  
by Chicago

Disclaimers in "Opening Credits".

Rating: R

An ear stretched toward one of four banks of monitors, leading back to its owner along  
a narrow tendril. Eel O'Brian watched the other three monitor banks in the same  
fashion, giving each an eye or an ear while his arms stretched back to the coffee station  
by the monitor womb door. He poured two cups - black - and pulled one back to his  
own position. The other he lifted, stretching his arm to the upper monitor platform to  
set the full mug beside Martian Manhunter.

"Thank you, Eel," J'onn said, picking up the coffee and taking a sip.

"De nada," Plasticman replied. "So what's on the date agenda tonight?"

"Broadway," J'onn revealed. "The revival of South Pacific opens tonight."

Eel's face shot up to J'onn's level, and the stretchy superhero dropped his jaw  
dramatically. "I LOVE South Pacific! How on earth did you get tickets?"

J'onn smiled and gestured toward the monitors. "Back to work, Eel. And Bruce gets  
invitations to Opening Nights all the time. He just never accepts them."

"Never?"

"Apparently."

"Man, if they ever bring Damn Yankees through Chicago..."

"Woozy's choice, I'm guessing?"

Plas' face returned to offer a lewd grin. "Well, yeah, but I score tickets to that and I'll  
be-"

"Enough, Eel," J'onn said sternly.

Plasticman brought his hands up to lace under his chin, propping himself on his elbows  
on the upper platform. "C'mon, J'onn, how can I vicariously live a billionaire lifestyle if  
you don't use your new connections?"

J'onn raised an eyebrow. "A year is hardly 'new.'"

"Yeah, well-"

The buzz of the teleporter alert brought Eel to attention, and suddenly there was a  
WHOOSH as the Flash entered the Monitor Room.  
"HiJ'onnhiPlasIwaswonderingifmaybe-"

"Wallace," J'onn interrupted. "Slow down."

The Flash grimaced, but when he spoke again, he was intelligible. "I need to trade out  
monitor duty with someone for next Tuesday."

"No can do, Flasherooni," Eel said, assuming the shape of the scales of justice. "Court  
date."

Flash sighed and looked up toward J'onn. "J'onn? I know we ask you all the time and  
you've probably got date plans and maybe if you could just cover long enough for me  
to go to Linda's ultrasound appointment and-"

"Whoa, hold on there, Fleet Feet!" Plas interrupted. "Ultrasound? As in-" He morphed  
into a stork carrying a baby.

Wally's face split into a huge grin. "Yep!"

"WOO HOO!" Eel whooped. "Congratulations, Daddy to be!"

J'onn floated down from the platform above and clapped Wally's shoulder. "So Linda  
finally told you you could tell?" he asked with an amused smile.

"She made me wait three whole months! Can you believe that? But yeah, I'm going to  
be a papa!"

"You should tell the others," J'onn suggested. "And I can cover the daytime hours on  
your shift."

"ThanksJ'onnyou'rethebest!" Wally rattled, zipping back out of the monitor womb.

J'onn shook his head after the speedster, then turned back toward his other teammate.  
"Eel?"

A sigh escaped the League's funny man. "I should've been that excited, back when-"

J'onn rested a hand on Eel's shoulder reassuringly. "There's still time to get to know  
Luke, Patrick."

Eel turned rapidly, staring at J'onn. "Don't take this the wrong way, J'onn, but right  
there you reminded me of Sister Mary Xavier."

J'onn smiled enigmatically and shrugged. "I've been accused of worse. Just - don't let  
too much time go by. They grow fast."

"I know," Eel sighed. "Listen, shouldn't you be getting ready for your date? Hate to  
keep Brucie waiting."

"I don't think he minds being fashionably late," J'onn pointed out.

"Well, *I* mind," Eel retorted. "If you've got opening night tickets to South Pacific and  
miss a single moment-"

"Very well," J'onn conceded. "Have a good night, Eel."

"Uh huhn," Eel agreed absently, his eyes tracking something on one of the monitors.

J'onn waited a moment, then turned to leave. He smiled a little as he reached the door  
and heard Eel begin to hum, "Some Enchanted Evening." He'd have to tell Bruce to  
order a couple of tickets for the Chicago leg of the touring production.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"If you laugh at different comics,  
If you root for different teams,  
Waste no time  
Weep no more  
Show him what the door is for..."

"That girl of yours has a good set of pipes," remarked Syd Lyotard, handing Bruce  
another glass of champagne and settling back in next to his victim. The director was  
skilled at this evening's task; he had a deft and flattering touch and knew all the right  
things to say to cajole and coax well-heeled investors into investing in Broadway. He  
had obviously selected Bruce as the prize of the evening, a rare opportunity to get real  
money behind his next project, and had equally obviously figured Bruce for a hard sell.  
Bruce had been unable to lose him for more than a few minutes since he and Mona had  
joined the post-show party.

"Oh, Mona?" Bruce said carelessly, accepting the champagne and buying the director's  
moment of distraction to pour part of it into the drinking fountain at his elbow. "She  
did college theater or something in some school in the Midwest."

Lyotard raised an eyebrow. "An aspiring actress, hmm? Well, she and Bianca seem to  
be getting along famously."

Maybe too famously, Bruce conceded, as the two women launched into another show  
tune from the night's entertainment. Mona seemed genuinely awed to have caught the  
notice of the show's lead, her eyes bright and her color high with excitement and  
champagne. Bianca had become her bosom companion in the space of a little over an  
hour, and Bruce was not oblivious to the way that the actress was circling in like a  
shark. To Lyotard, he only said, "Mona's got a great spirit."

"Well, with her looks and that voice and a good personality, she could go far in this  
town. In fact," Lyotard swirled his half-finished champagne as if in thought rather than  
in calculation, "I think she may have the qualities I'm looking for in one of the parts in  
my next show."

There's the hook, Bruce noted as Lyotard took a deep swallow of champagne.  
Unfortunately for Lyotard, he had brought fishing tackle to try to hunt bear. "Oh  
yeah?" he asked blandly. "I'll have to mention that to her, tell her to watch for the  
casting call."

Across the room, Mona and Bianca garnered another round of applause and toasted  
their audience of blue-haired-but-wealthy theater patrons. Bianca whispered  
something to Mona that caused her to blush and giggle, and Bruce noticed that the  
small knot of men and women that had begun the evening with Mona and Bianca had  
gradually eroded. One man stubbornly remained to hand, whether in an effort to  
capture Mona or Bianca Bruce couldn't say. "You know," Lyotard was saying, bringing  
Bruce back into the conversation, "I'm sure she could get cast on her own merits, but  
I'm often able to ensure certain roles for the friends of producers and donors. And I'm  
sure Mona could appreciate something like that."

Bruce turned to look Lyotard full in the face, his expression a little incredulous, and he  
began to laugh. "You think - oh, no! I just brought Mona out as a favor to her father.  
Business stuff, you know. I'm just not that much into theatre." He kept his tone airy.  
"Besides, I don't think her father is that keen to have her get into this life. He's  
indulging her you know, but..."

Lyotard drained the last of his champagne to hide the scowl that crossed his face. "Wish  
someone asked me to do favors like that," he remarked bitterly.

"Hey, now, don't be like that," Bruce counseled. "It's business, you know. And-"

He broke off, distracted by a little shrieking laugh from across the room. He turned to  
see that Bianca had 'inadvertently' spilled a full glass of champagne down the front of  
Mona's dress and was trying ineffectually to blot away the liquid with her handkerchief.  
Or rather, she was *appearing* as if that was what she was trying to do; in reality she  
was rather effectively finding an excuse to touch Mona's exquisite breasts - now quite  
well presented in wet, clinging silk.

"Sorry, Syd, I'm afraid I have to go rescue my date."

Lyotard grumbled something as Bruce slipped away, but Bruce ignored whatever it  
was. He approached Mona and Bianca with a casual air, sliding in beside Mona and  
slipping an arm around her waist, forcing Bianca back a step. "Hello, darling. Looks  
like you had a bit of a spill."

Mona giggled. "Champagne," she explained. "Bianca was just helping-"

"Bianca! Already on a first name basis. I tell you, Ms. Stoller, Mona could not stop  
talking about seeing her idol Ms. Stoller all the way to the theater. I told you she would  
be lovely in person, didn't I, Mona?"

"Yes, you did," Mona agreed, tiptoeing to give Bruce a peck on the cheek. "And you  
were right. And where are my manners! Bianca, this is Bruce Wayne. He's my escort  
for the evening."

Bianca smiled a warmly artificial smile that didn't pretend to reach her eyes. "Yes, so  
you were telling me. And this is the famous Mr. Wayne. Pleased to meet you." Her  
tone said something more ambiguous.

Bruce took the hand she offered with a gracious smile and brought it to his lips. "The  
pleasure is mine. Your performance tonight was captivating."

"Wasn't it, though?" Mona bubbled. "I was just telling Bianca-"

"Hush, dear, you can tell me about it on the way home. Alfred's waiting."

"Oh, Brucie!" Mona pouted.

"Yes, c'mon, Brucie," Bianca added, moving in to rest her chin on Mona's shoulder and  
look up at Bruce with something more lascivious in her eyes than concern for Mona's  
disappointment.

As he looked down at the two of them, each beautiful in her own way, a little corner of  
his own mind added, "Go for it, Brucie." He forcefully suppressed the idle fantasy and  
made his face stern. "Now, Mona, it is getting late. There'll be other opening nights."

Mona looked about to protest again, then sighed. "Okay. Bianca, it was so nice to really  
meet you in person and everything."

Bianca leaned in for an air kiss - that caught a little more than air, Bruce noticed - and  
smiled at Mona. "Likewise, my dear. Do call me some day - we'll do lunch."

"Of course," Mona replied, eyes shining.

"Mr. Wayne," Bianca said more formally, holding out her hand and this time making it  
clear she would accept only a handshake.

"Ms. Stoller," Bruce acknowledged. "Come on, Mona, let's get our coats."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Mona bounced into the limousine, barely waiting for Alfred to raise the privacy screen  
before she hopped into Bruce's lap and kissed him breathless. Her mouth tasted of  
champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries, and her restless body wriggled against  
him most... alluringly.

Finally she pulled back with a laugh. "That was so *fun*!" she exclaimed, her eyes  
dancing.

Bruce let his arms capture her in a loose circle, holding her on his lap. "You liked that,  
did you?" he asked with mild amusement. He was trying to figure out where the line  
between persona and Martian blurred. Mona had been practically *skipping* as they  
left the theatre, talking fast enough to give Wally a run for his money, stumbling a little  
on the curb and blaming the champagne as she pressed against him for balance.

Mona nodded, charmingly excited and awed. "I never imagined I would get to meet -  
and it was so cool!" she gushed. "You know, Bianca even said I have the talent to  
maybe get cast in one of these big shows. Wouldn't that be so *exciting*? I can picture  
it, my name on the marquee: Mona-"

She paused and frowned a little. "Bianca said I'd need to change my last name though."

Bruce ran a hand along Mona's upper thigh. "She doesn't like Olafsdorn?"

Mona wrinkled her nose. "She said it sounded too... country. The wrong kind of  
foreign. She said I needed a more glamorous name to fit my stage presence."

Bruce began kissing a line from Mona's ear to her collar bone, following the curve of  
her neck. "I think Bianca was just trying to get in your panties," he commented, his own  
hand sliding under the edge of Mona's skirt.

"Bru-uce," Mona objected, pushing his head back but letting his hand continue its  
exploration. "Help me think up a good stage name."

"Mmmm," Bruce considered, nudging her coat open in order to nuzzle the still  
champagne-damp silk over her breasts. "How about Mona Loverly?"

There was a faint gasp as Bruce's mouth thoroughly explored Mona's chest. "That -  
mmm - sounds too... too sexy..." she objected, shifting to allow Bruce to slide her dress  
further up her leg, planting small kisses on his hair.

Bruce raised his face as his fingers caught hold of Mona's thong. His lips met Mona's,  
and for a moment there was nothing said. Then, "I don't think a name can be too sexy  
for you," he breathed, his free hand helping her remove her coat.

Mona wriggled free of the coat, shifting so she straddled Bruce's lap. "Oooh," she  
sighed, pressing forward against his hand. "It shouldn't sound so... mmm... needs to be  
classier." She pushed his head back and loosened his tie, beginning to rock in his lap.

"Classier, hmmm?" Bruce repeated, letting his second hand travel down to Mona's hip.  
"I'll have to think about that."

Mona's teeth caught his earlobe as her fingers worked deftly down his shirt front. Her  
voice sounded throaty when she spoke again, her hands urging Ace away and  
unbuttoning Bruce's pants. "You liked that, the idea of Bianca..."

Bruce felt a flush increase through his body at the image J'onn projected into his mind.  
He tucked his lips next to Mona's ear. "You are all the women, all the anything...  
mmm... I'll ever need."

After that, there were no more words.

To be continued...

*********date 5*****************

^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)

Tales from the Bloody Rudder  
by Darklady

Disclaimers in "Opening Credits".

Rating: G

^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)

 

"Did Alfred send up my blue tux?" The figure crossing the main station of the JLA  
Watchtower was the Darknight Detective, but the voice was pure Bruce Wayne.

Alfred had, however, so Superman congenially pointed to the folded suit bag. "Dining  
out *again*?"

If there was a critical note in the world- famous baritone, this time the usually astute  
detective missed it. Or ignored it. In any case, the reply was Bruce-bland. "Most dates  
involve food."

"Food yes - but this?" Superman gave a vague wave that could - but apparently did not  
\- take in the entire planet centered on the screen. "This is the Bruce Wayne Tour of  
Overpriced Dining."

"Your suggestion?" A bit of Bat edged back onto the armored posture. "Given that not  
*all* of us can snack on a sunbeam."

"Don't you know any CASUAL places?" Superman tried to keep the question light. Not  
that - to Bruce - most of the worlds great restaurant weren't casual. The man probably  
wore a tux more in one month then Clark would in a whole year. And that was now  
that Clark was keeping up with *Lois's* social schedule. But even by Wayne standards,  
the last few dates had been society column fodder. Which Clark should know - since he  
had to *edit* those columns.

Bad enough that Bruce was being pretentious. Did he have to be boring as well?

"It hardly matters what*I* know..." Both Brucie and Bat vanished into the true Bruce.  
Who was - in Clark's opinion - a bit of a spoiled snark. As proved by the arched  
eyebrow aimed from under the usual expressionless cowl. "The bet requires that we  
chose from your... list." East coast drawl turned the last word into four letters not so  
innocent.

True - to be fair. But right now Clark Kent was totally bored and not particularly  
feeling like being fair. "Heck. If you need it on the list... Superman's fingers blurred over  
the keyboard, and a new line appeared on the monitor screen nearest the Bat. "Go  
someplace you *don't* need to wear a tux." Clark mentally added 'somewhere I don't  
need to find space for in the morning Calendar section.' "In fact?" Superman's smile  
showed just a few too many teeth. "Make it someplace you wouldn't wear a suit at all. "  
The flashing blue eyes added 'I dare you'.

"Bruce?" J'onn drifted into the room. Still in green, so not yet impatient, but with the  
body language of one who was wondering what the holdup was.

"J'onn?" The word was nothing - but Superman caught the slight glaze in expression  
that meant an entire dialogue was taking place on another plane.

"Casual *would* be different." A statement without discernible intonation, but again -  
the Martian hardly required the use of speech.

"Very well." A statement to the third party. J'onn didn't need words. The Bat had made  
his decision.

 

^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)

Twenty minutes later two new figures were standing on a narrow strip of white sand  
weaving between the blue of sea and the green of inland foliage. Separating the two  
was a ramble of buildings that might - had they been better organized - made up a  
small town. As it was currently laid out? Extraterrestrial visitors might have considered  
it the work of an extremely advances species of beaver.

Bruce Wayne pulled off his 'Gotham Yacht Club' baseball cap and pointed it at one of  
the more impressive piles of hammered planking. "My favorite casual restaurant - The  
Bloody Rudder."

"Bruce." The feminine whimper and the clutch at his t-shirt sleeve were half acting - but  
only half. "Clark said casual - not capsized."

Bruce smiled as he guided the slim, dark-haired woman over the driftwood-cluttered  
beach. "Trust me."

"With my life, yes, but...." The young woman came to a sudden stop as he read the  
faded sign over the door. It was a ax carved slab with the restaurants name and a  
Spanish motto : Alimento Malo - Cerveza D il. "Bruce - this place *advertises* its bad  
food."

Chuckling, he pulled back the cork-draped net that passed for a front door. "They make  
up for it in atmosphere."

"Bruce." The female form didn't move. " We're in the Caribbean. If this is a bar? Aren't I  
supposed to go in though the 'ladies' entrance?"

"Dat's Jamaica. Doll. We ain't be British 'round dis Island." The booming voice came  
from a woman with vaguely Indo-African features. Although - at nearly 300 pounds  
and dressed in colors that would shame a parrot - her ancestry was the only even  
slightly vague thing about her. "Sides - ain't never a la-de-da lady *come* to de Rudder -  
so we don need no door for such. Although? " Rolling out from the darkened interior,  
the speaker took her time eyeballing the new visitor. "You, honey chile? You might be  
fixin to be the first. Brucie-lad?" If the last was a question, the question was 'where are  
your manners'.

"LaTasha Martinez, Mama Jo." Bruce offered the introduction with all the formality of  
the Founders Club Cotillion. "A *seriously* good friend of mine. And as honest a  
woman as you are yourself." He held up one hand in mock-scouting fashion. "I swear  
it."

"Well, then?" The lady scanned 'LaTasha' with a penetration that an MRI would envy. "I  
be that happy for you. Come along." Mama Jo swung her fluorescent self back towards  
the cluttered interior of the restaurant. "My nephew come in lucky - we got dolphin on  
de grill."

<> The mental question was joined by a not-only-mental shiver.

<> Bruce thought back. <>

The wave of relief was palatable. Unfortunately - it was also fleeting.

LaTasha stopped dead about three inches past the threshold. << Bruce - there are  
*knives* stuck in that wall! >>

It took a moment for Bruce to process what J'onn was angsting about. Not because he  
couldn't see it too. After all - a three foot machete tended to be hard to overlook. Except  
\- as in this case - when they were an expected part of the scenery <> He reassured J'onn. <>

<>

<> Following the proprietress, Bruce stepped past J'onn's female form  
and headed for a table in the corner. <> Not to mention that  
the concept of one of the most powerful metas on the planet being put off by a little  
harborside dust-up was... ridiculous. But if J'onn wanted to play out his current  
persona? Bruce had no objection to thoroughness. Especially when this one of J'onn's  
creations was so thoroughly delectable.

He pulled the curved body closer. "I'll protect you."

"No need fo that, boy. You know folks don give my guests no trouble." Mama Jo  
guided LaTasha to a table made from a packing crate. "Now you just be sittin here,  
chiles. I go fetch you some supper."

Seeing that Bruce was waiting also, J'onn gave in.

Bruce held the cut down barrel for his date.

<> J'onn looked around cautiously. <>

<> For once Bruce Wayne's mental smile reached his face. "Mama's place.  
What mama cooks we eat."

J'onn gave in. And sat down. < _>_

_Bruce laughed as he took his own seat on a three-legged chair. <>_

_Mental exchanges are fast - but apparently Mama Jo was faster. By the time they had  
settled into their chairs she was back behind Bruce. "Here." The drinks clattered as she  
slammed them onto the table._

_J'onn lifted one cup carefully. "She serves drinks in tin cans?"_

_"Pewter." Bruce's grin grew wider. "These tankards are probably old enough to drop  
jaws at Butterfield's." Picking up his own, he took a deep swallow. "Mama doesn't allow  
glass bottles. Folks break them in fights - and then she doesn't get her deposit back."  
Seeing the hesitation in his dates eyes - or possibly in his mind - Bruce added a mental  
whisper. <>_

_< > J'onn's eyes searched to corners - although whether for seams  
in the illusion or just for the toe- nibbling local crabs was anyone's guess. <>_

_"All real." Bruce shifted his seat to allow a better view of the bar. Just because the place  
*seemed* peaceable this early...well, Mama's machete policy wasn't instituted just  
because. "The Rudder hasn't changed since..." Bruce considered a moment. "Probably  
not since the back half of the Unlucky Lady washed up... pretty much where it is today.  
Local palm is not much good for shipbuilding, so...well, repairing it was pretty much  
out of the question. Even if they could have gotten the front half back off Cat's Cove.  
So... Alfonzo, I think it was... anyway the ship's cook took what he could salvage and  
turned what was left of his galley into a tavern."_

_"A tradition that continues, I gather."_

_Bruce finished his drink and held up the cup for a refill._

_Mama responded by tossing over a jug. Plastic, fortunately. Plus with reflexes he'd  
never show in Gotham, Bruce did manage to catch it._

_"Pretty much." Bruce refilled his cup, ignoring J'onn as 'LaTasha' hadn't even started on  
hers. "The island is pretty good for simple crops, but after that? The locals import or  
make do. Mostly make do."_

_"Living by their wits?"_

_"Their wits are a lot more reliable then the government mail boat."_

_J'onn took a sniff of his own cup - and almost shifted back to green. From the fumes  
alone. "This is the 'weak beer'?" Because it was more likely that he had been slipped a  
jug of medical alcohol. Or embalming fluid._

_"Cane punch." Bruce rolled his own drink casually on his tongue, as if savoring a fine  
wine. "About a thousand times stronger then beer. Although the beer isn't all that  
weak."_

_J'onn took a small sip. A very small one. And even that made the terran throat close  
from the pure chemistry. "You *DRINK* this?!"_

_Bruce passed over his jug. "*I* have fruit juice."_

_Mama Jo rolled over to crowd the small table with two heaping platters of vegetables  
and broiled fish. "Brucie-boy have a weak stomach since childhood. All de fault of yo  
mama listen to that doctor man."_

_"Mama Jo." A note of... could that be embarrassment?_

_"I know." The tone implied she knew no such thing. "He be your daddy. But that don'  
make him wise. Shoulda let me set you up. My boys - they don' have no problem eat or  
drink anything."_

_Bruce pulled his platter over - making room for salt and red sauce. "That's because  
you're such a good cook."_

_Mama Jo gave a pleased bow. "I am... say that." Dropping two spoons beside the plates,  
she headed back to the bar._

_Bruce smiled at his date. "Dig in."_

_LaTasha stared at the heaping plate. < _>__

__< >_ _

__J'onn's perception marched from Bruce - who was digging in to the broiled corn with  
unexpected vigor - to the decorations of the pub - nonexistent - unless beer ads counted  
\- to the few other patrons - all busy with both business and beer. This was hardly the  
Wayne boyhood of legend, but... Bruce did not lie. Evade, yes. Frequently and with  
impressive skill. But lie? Not to his friends._ _

__Of course, the absence of lies was not the presence of truth._ _

__Which meant._ _

__"Bruce?" J'onn waited until his date finished off a final bit of a roast banana. "You  
brought me here as some sort of a ... game? Test?"_ _

__"Not at all." Bruce broke off a corner of crispy fish and held it up for 'LaTasha'. "This  
really *IS* my favorite restaurant on the whole world."_ _

__J'onn sat back - and let that action demand an explanation._ _

__"My ... I think it was great -great-grandfather. Or maybe it was a generation back." The  
rest of the fish temporarily distracted Bruce from his thoughts. "Anyway - the family  
acquired an island a few miles over."_ _

__LaTasha rolled her eyes at that. "I refuse to believe you don't know when Pere Wayne  
bought it." To the day. Make that the hour. Possibly the minute._ _

__"What bought?" Bruce's answering expression was pure smirk. "I mean we *HAVE* an  
island. Since the days when Leatherwing sailed the main. And as no one has actually  
*disputed* our sovereignty..."_ _

__"You're joking?"_ _

__"About property?"_ _

__"Oh - right." Those who thought *Batman* was a humorless fanatic had never seen  
Bruce Wayne at a zoning hearing. The phrase 'my town' applied to Gotham in more  
then a vigilante sense. LaTasha sniffed at her own potatoes. In a very ladylike fashion,  
of course. "Go on."_ _

__"Anyway. My father used to bring us down here for the summer." An ear of corn was  
waved in what J'onn assumed was the general direction of the mentioned island. "He'd  
take the boat off on a clinic tour - and my mother would paint... and I would just... I  
mostly a ran wild."_ _

__Thomas Wayne's son and heir - running wild. *That* was less likely then a Wayne  
overlooking real estate. J'onn's expression must have said as much._ _

__"Believe it." Picking up the tankard Bruce watered the sand with J'onn's untouched cane  
punch. Apparently even Martian physiology had its stress limits. "Mama Jo has pictures  
that Vesper would kill for. Well - maybe not kill but..."" He poured a fresh glass from  
the bottle of fruit juice and passed it back. "That one up there._ _

__J'onn followed the pointed finger. "That's *you*???" The age was perhaps right -  
judging by the fading of the image - and the coloring - but the prospect of a Wayne of  
any age decked out in nothing but a straw hat and sandals was...."_ _

__"Bruce Wayne - age four." Bruce reinforced the printed image with a flurry of happy  
memories. "The islanders have their... rough side... But they are very *very* fond of  
children. I could play freely here in ways that I just... couldn't... back in Gotham."_ _

__La Tasha reached for Bruce's hand. "That's why it's your favorite place?"_ _

__That and...well... most of the kids I played with are still here. They leave to fish a little -  
or to work at the tourist hotels in the big islands- but the locals tend to come back. So  
here I'm just... Bruce."_ _

__And not Wayne or Brucie or the Bat or any of the other willing and unwilling masks  
that covered so much of his reality, J'onn finished mentally. "They don't ask you for  
anything."_ _

__Bruce laughed. Honestly and loud. "Oh - they ask me for lots of things. We'll be lucky if  
we get out tonight without my being conscripted to unload at least ONE load of fish.  
But..."_ _

__"That's different." J'onn finished._ _

__"Exactly."_ _

__J'onn understood. *How* he understood. His own spirit had been similarly gated - by  
duty first and then by tragedy. "A very good reason to value a place." _ _

__"Well, that and.." Bruce waved his now-empty platter at Mama Jo. "Do try the fish."_ _

__To be continued..._ _

__************date 6**********************_ _

__30/30: Splash Zone  
by Darklady and Chicago_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: G_ _

__Bruce Wayne lay back, the tropical warmth weighing down his eyes. The polychrome  
sail just inches overhead swelled in the regular gusts. Low waves slapped the hull  
below him in seeming rhythm to the creaking of the mast._ _

__He plucked the covered glass of lemonade from it's holder and took a long pull._ _

__His bare toes pulled at the running lines , only to be caught and held by a strong but  
feminine hand. Lips brushed the instep before the limb was released back to him. Not a  
long touch, but more then enough to draw his thoughts from the spectacle of the  
cloudless horizon to far nearer beauties._ _

__"Now *this*.." He smiled at his companion, whose bikini clad form was draped over the  
other float of their catamaran. The noon sun drew highlights of fire over the auburn  
hair, contrasting artistically with the deep blue of the Caribbean sea. "*This* is nice."_ _

__Letting his gaze wander to the leaping school of pink dolphins that followed their wake,  
Bruce's Bat side added automatically. "As long as none of those dolphins are working  
for Orin."_ _

__The athletically svelte young woman reached for a bottle of coconut oil, as if that would  
affect the few freckles that broke the even bronzing of what *should* be milk-white  
skin. Really, Bruce thought admiringly, J'onn was an *artist* of the human form. He  
should have picked up a camera. Better yet - he would have a word with Kyle. Brigitte  
O'Mahenan - Bruce blessed the trained memory that let him retain all of J'onn's names -  
definitely deserved a permanent commemoration._ _

__Both the tanning oil and one long leg were passed over in Bruce's direction. "Only you,  
Bruce, could possibly..."_ _

__As if called by name, one dolphin broke from the circling pod. A bottle-nosed face  
tapped gently against the fiberglass hull._ _

__J'onn reached over, arm shifting to green to gain the needed length. When he pulled  
the hand back, he was holding a fist-sized clam shell, nacred shut and tied with  
seaweed. Slitting the shell open with a razored nail, he pulled out a rolled length of sea-  
weed paper. "It's for you."_ _

__Bruce accepted the scrolled paper with a scowl and unrolled it. His eyes scanned the  
handwritten message, his face darkening. "Damn plant manager," he muttered. "Ever  
since Lucius-"_ _

__He stopped himself and sighed. "One of my plants in Guatemala has relaxed  
environmental protocols," he explained. "I thought there was something fishy about  
their profitability report." He reached for the jib line. "Arthur's right, though. It needs  
immediate attention."_ _

__J'onn nodded, watching as a hint of Bat tinged the purposeful movements of Bruce  
Wayne, irritated business mogul. The school of dolphins gave the catamaran space as it  
began the wide arcing turn back toward port._ _

__As the boat heeled around, Bruce gave "Brigitte" a rueful look. "You think you could  
play an environmental inspector for me?" he asked._ _

__J'onn stretched Brigitte's toes to rub over Bruce's calf. "When we get back to port," he  
promised. "Whatever you need."_ _

__"We'll come back sometime," Bruce promised._ _

__Brigitte's face broke into a warm smile with a hint of impishness dancing in her green  
eyes. "I'll hold you to that, Bruce. I really will."_ _

__To be continued..._ _

__***********date 7******************_ _

__Just Casing the Joint  
By Darklady_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: G_ _

__J'onn J'onzz paused and knocked before drifting through the door to the Batman's  
personal quarters. Normally he would have found the darknight detective in the  
monitor room, but Batman had turned the monitor over to Wonder Woman the  
moment his shift was over. Apparently the day's lack of crisis - whatever the Batman's  
official policy towards such things - had managed to bore Bruce as well._ _

__That, or there was some crisis waiting in Gotham._ _

__No. J'onn admitted a certain relief as he watched Bruce pull on a tee-shirt. Neither  
Wayne or the Bat would respond to a disaster dressed so casually. Which meant that  
Bruce had some... no one would ever all it spare time. Not where Bruce could overhear  
it. Still?_ _

__"Hello J'onn." Bruce reached for a pair of faded corduroy pants. "Finished in Keystone  
city?"_ _

__"Finished with the bridge collapse." J'onn settled lightly on the bed to enjoy the view.  
True, Bruce was currently going in the wrong direction - clothing wise. But dressing or  
undressing he was still pleasant to observe. "West is assisting the local authorities with  
the injured." Which, fortunately, had not been many, thanks to the Flashes' speedy  
response._ _

__Heading to the closet, Bruce asked, "So what's next?" The question was casual -  
distracted - but as it lead where J'onn wanted?_ _

__J'onn held out an envelope. "This."_ _

__"Candlelight Tour?" Bruce eyes flicked down the folded brochure inside. "I don't *think*  
so._ _

__"I was thinking of the day trip." Sliding one long green tendril down the sheet, J'onn  
underscored the line 'see Keystone City's greatest historic homes.' "For our next date."_ _

__Returning the sheet to J'onn, Bruce shook out a brightly colored plaid jacket. "I thought  
the agreement was to do something original."_ _

__"And this you've done?"_ _

__"Wayne Manor has been *on* the tour since..." Bruce squinted at his reflection in the  
dresser mirror. " ... my grandmothers time." A mutter added. "And I haven't yet  
managed to get it off."_ _

__"Perhaps." J'onn watched with interest as a quick comb though and a handful of  
pomade transformed Bruce Wayne's stylist cut into Matches' Malone's greaser shag.  
"But have you *gone* on the tour?"_ _

__A pinch of powder gave a thinning edge to the not-actually- receding forehead. "I think  
I've been to every damn..."_ _

__"Not what I asked." J'onn slid closer. "Have you even *taken* the tour."_ _

__"I'd hardly have time when..." A careful mis-comb gave an Elvis edge to the sideburns._ _

__"Exactly."_ _

__"Why?"_ _

__"Why not?" J'onn slid the tickets onto Malone's breast pocket. "I got these from Wallace  
\- who get them from his wife - who was supposed to write up the tour for the  
Keystone City Chronicle."_ _

__"But?"_ _

__The Flash is gong to be busy with the bridge. Plus he got tickets to that new production  
of Damn Yankees. Which Linda preferred." There was an implication there that Linda  
was not the only one with that taste. "So Goldie Johnston gets the Stately Homes Tour  
assignment."_ _

__"I thought Goldie focused on Venusians building Stonehenge. Or whatever the World  
Register is passing off as information these days. Unless you're telling me that this is a  
haunted mansion?"_ _

__"Goldie hasn't sold a story in three months. If she doesn't get a paycheck soon the IRS is  
going to start wondering."_ _

__"Oh." No need to say more. Bruce had the same problem with his own covert personas.  
Generally not with the IRS, but now and then one of the Gotham gangsters would  
wonder why Matches had cash when he wasn't taking their jobs. Fortunately, there  
were generally enough non-arsonous but suspicious fires to give Matches a decent  
resume._ _

__"Sorry - J'onn." Bruce looked down at his disguise. "I don't think I'll have time to  
change. I only have about two hours before I have to be at the bar."_ _

__"So don't." Shrinking in to a blonder - and female - form, the now-Goldie ran her hands  
down her 'dates' fraying lapels. "I'll assume Malone doesn't have any actual warrants  
out. Anyway - this is in Keystone City - who will recognize him?"_ _

__Bruce frowned. That was true, but....but...Matches Malone on a Stately Homes Tour?  
The idea would be funny if it wasn't to ludicrous. Or was that ludicrous if it wasn't  
funny? His lips began to curl unconsciously. _ _

__"Tell you what." J'onn stretched out an arm for Matches' hat. "If we transport down this  
should only take an hour. After that? I'll go with you on your stake out."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__They beamed down behind a cluster of eucalyptus._ _

__Matches checked his battered Timex. "Just in time."_ _

__J'onn looked over the strangely uniform company that was slowly sifting onto the  
brightly painted tour bus. While the age varied a bit - perhaps more then a bit, if the  
range from fifty to ninety were considered numerically, the gender was constant. And  
the clothes? Again, uniform was the more then apt word. "Interesting." Bruce seemed  
to have a set insistence as to age, but as to the other details? "Perhaps..." At J'onn's  
suggestion zo'ok shifted again. A longer skirt, a print blouse, and a short strand of blue  
and red beads. Plus J'onn shortened and tucked back Goldie's usually scattered blonde  
curls._ _

__"J'onn." Bruce shuddered. Actually shuddered. " You look like... my mother."_ _

__J'onn hesitated. "Inappropriate ?" Generally Bruce had a sharp eyes for characterization,  
but? At least half of the females boarding the bus were wearing a similar outfit._ _

__"No, but" Bruce shifted uneasily. "Don't expect a good night kiss."_ _

__"Very well." Zo'ok quivered, then contracted at least ten inches at the hem and neckline.  
"Is that better?"_ _

__"Much."_ _

__J'onn shook his head. "I will never understand Terrans."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__"Oh! Dear!" A sixty-something lady in flowered silk called out as Goldie stepped onto  
the bus. "I believe the Las Vegas junket leaves from the other side of the building. Just  
follow the signs and..."_ _

__"Thanks. but..." Goldie held out the pair of tickets. "We're here for the Gracious Homes  
Afternoon?"_ _

__"You are?" The lady did a quick half-step back. "I mean... you are... in the right place  
then."_ _

__"Vegas?" The lady gave Matches a hopeful look._ _

__"Nope." Matches held up a hand, just in case another step might take the older lady off  
the bus completely. "Tour."_ _

__The lady shut her eyes. "Oh dear."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__J'onn was still questioning Bruce's fashion sense at the end of the short bus ride. Quite a  
few of the older passengers had been... surprisingly eager... to yield their seat to the  
new couple. Then to find a new seat for themselves at the other end of the bus. Plus  
now he noticed that many of their fellow visitors stepped back away as Matches  
escorted Goldie up the flower lined walkway to the imposing front door. The red  
jacketed guide, however, moved closer._ _

__Goldie leaned closer, whispering in Matches ear. "I still think I made a mistake."_ _

__"No." Matches whispered back, giving one gray haired harpy a wide and evil grin.  
"Flawless as always."_ _

__Was he suddenly blind? Goldie nodded towards the docent waiting at the door. "That  
woman is staring at us."_ _

__Matches grinned. Wickedly. "She just thinks we're likely to steal the silver, that's all."_ _

__Then again - maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. Matches Malone wasn't the  
nicest guy on the planet._ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__"On behalf of the Keystone City Garden Society, I'd like to welcome... all of you... to  
VanderHoot Mansion._ _

__Mrs. Betsie VanderHoot fingered her pearls nervously as Matches eased Goldie  
towards the front of the audience._ _

__"Thank you, Elizabeth, for sharing your lovely home."_ _

__"I'm Ilsa Smoot, Vice-President of the Keystone City Garden Club and your guide for  
this years very special Tour." The lady from the front door took center stage. "Life in  
Keystone City Society was... quite different... from what some of you might be... used  
to. But I'm sure that with a little patience our volunteers can help you understand the  
importance of the VanderHoot contribution to our culture. "_ _

__"Ya think so?" Matches looked at Goldie. "I guess I'm gonna learn sompin' on this  
shindig after all."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__A tall woman with two inch fingernails pointed down the cellar stairs._ _

__"Mr. VanderHoot served only the finest French wines, importing it by the barrel. They  
were decanted in this small butlers pantry._ _

__Matches sniffed near a barrel Labeled Chateau Picard, 1804. Empty. Pity. "Hell of a  
kegger."_ _

__"Beer and local wines," she glared at Matches. "Were only considered fit for the servants._ _

__Matches grinned. "Like those better myself."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__A silver-curled matron in lilac chiffon ran her hand half an inch over the gleaming wood  
of the long mahogany table. "The VanderHoot's had the largest formal dining room in  
the city. When they added the leaves they could seat as many as one hundred guests."_ _

__She frowned at Goldie, who was leaning over for a closer look. "It must be hard for...  
young people today... to imagine. Most parties are more... casual... I imagine."_ _

__Goldie turned back to her date. "You?" she whispered._ _

__"Two hundred and fourteen - last Easter."_ _

__"Oh yes." Goldie laced her fingers together - basket-fashion. "I remember that one."_ _

__Matches closed his eyes at the memory. "As do we all."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__"I'm sure the young lady will like this." This time, the sharply tailored guide waved  
Goldie forward. "These dishes were designed my the first Mrs. VanderHoot. That shade  
of bright pink is the rarest of all the porcelain colors, and was never used for any other  
dinner set."_ _

__Matches leaned over to Goldie. "Because most people have taste."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__"The foyer chandelier overhead holds over three hundred candles. Fully loaded, it took  
the butler over an hour to light them all. Of course," the third guide smirked at the  
other gray haired ladies who were oohing from the doorway. "We won't do that until  
you... those who are members of the Garden Society... come back tonight."_ _

__"Fortunately." Matches whispered._ _

__"It is... large." Goldie stepped carefully around the side of the room. "Even bigger  
then...."_ _

__"Size isn't everything." Matches snorted._ _

__Goldie giggled. "Does that mean this time yours *isn't* bigger?"_ _

__"Mine's big enough." Matches stopped the blush before anyone else could sense it. "You  
only need that many candles if you're planning on singing opera."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__"The Royal Bedroom " Maroon lace floated out as the speaker spun slowly, arms  
outstretched as if to embrace the crammed display of brocade and gilt carving. "The  
furniture you see was all imported from France."_ _

__She patted the top pillow on the heavily fringed pile. "The beds are shorter then we are  
used to, because people back then were also short. Today's people's heights are the  
result of our better diets." Bruce watched her eyes shift uncertainly from the  
grandmotherly crowd, up to Goldie and Matches. "In most cases."_ _

__Goldie raised an eyebrow. "That true?"_ _

__"Sieur deVane?" Matches whispered back, referring to the semi- legendary founder of  
the Wayne line. "Two inches taller then I am. I've worn the armor."_ _

__"Unlike the lesser guest rooms, this one was reserved for the Governor, when he came  
to town, and other civic leaders ."_ _

__Matches stepped gingerly over a bit of ruffle that had snuck under the restraining rope.  
"Makes the guillotine look merciful."_ _

__"Have you ever seen anything like it?" The guide sparkled - then faltered as Goldie  
sashayed past. "Well, maybe... commercially."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__"This is the Grand Ballroom." A sharp featured lady in sharper tailoring threw open the  
tall doors, then stepped back to let most of the visitors go through. She stepped in just  
behind Matches and Goldie. "The inlaid floor was easily scuffed, so the first Mrs.  
VanderHoot came up with a clever way to keep it shiny. She required all her servants  
to wear large... well, I'd guess today you'd call them fuzzy slippers... when they cleaned  
the ballroom. That way the floor was polished at the same time."_ _

__Matches looked at Goldie._ _

__Goldie looked at Matches._ _

__Matches grinned. "I'm imagining Alfred's face."_ _

__Goldie shivered. "I'm imagining Cassandra's"_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__"And here we have the VanderHoot collection of European Masters." Ilsa Smoot  
reclaimed the end of the tour._ _

__"Dead people as wallpaper." Matches stepped though the portrait gallery with the same  
enthusiasm most people reserved for mine fields. "Good that West didn't offer those  
tickets for Kyle. It could disable an artist faster then anything the Bat would ever do."_ _

__"Be fair." Goldie aimed a gentle elbow into Matches ribs. "YOUR walls are covered with  
'dead people'."_ _

__"My portraits are of *relatives*." Bruce hissed back. "Whose names I know."_ _

__Goldie paused before one particularly florid exemplar. 'Man in a Turban' - according to  
the plaque. "You don't think he's related?"_ _

__"Impossible." Matches caught her elbow before it could hit again, and steered Goldie  
towards the exit. "Nothing sentient would mate with something that looked like that."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__"And now for the prize of our collection. Rinehart Von Rolfens 'Woman with Four  
Cats."_ _

__Ms. Smoot pulled back a curtain - exposing (and given her lack of garb Bruce  
considered that exposed was indeed the word) the peeling oil of a Dutch matron that -  
also in Bruce's opinion - even Turban-lad wouldn't have married._ _

__J'onn caught the thought. In fact - it was loud enough that he wondered how even the  
non-empathic locals could have missed it._ _

__"Be nice, 'Matches"." Goldie tried for a glare. Which tactic this particular persona wasn't  
well suited for, and which seldom worked on Bruce anyway, but since he was too alert  
for another elbow? "Or else I'll tell Kyle you made fun of the art."_ _

__"That is not art." Matches's eyes frosted over to pure-Bruce-Wayne. "That... is vulgarity  
in a frame."_ _

__The guide had, fortunately, missed the exchange. "This special work", she continued,  
"was purchased from a Dutch collector for eighty million dollars."_ _

__Goldie tossed Matches a big smile - since she couldn't get in anything more solid. "Proof  
that *someone* must appreciate it."_ _

__"Proof that if you *have* eighty million - it *costs* eighty million"_ _

__"Come on. Rinehart Von Rolfen is famous."_ _

__"Not for that, he isn't. You couldn't *hire* Selina to haul that away." Spotting the sparks  
in his date's eyes, Bruce shook his head. "Trust me on this. I may not always know what  
I like - but I do know art."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__"Well" Goldie gave a half dance as they caught sight of the formal gardens. "Now for  
the part that at least *I* will like. Dessert." _ _

__"What?" Matches stopped - and was almost stampeded by the heard of little old ladies  
rushing onto the rose lawn. A lawn which currently hosted a fresh planting of tables._ _

__"Read your ticket Matches." Goldie moved purposely towards a table for two. "This is  
the 'tea' tour. Complete with - and I quote - over one hundred unique tastes from the  
cities finest restaurants and bakeries."_ _

__"And most of them chocolate." Matches nodded in mock-cynicism. "Now I know why  
you took the tickets."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__The white-coated teenager sneered at Matches. "Would Sir care for the Chocolate Kir  
Tart or the Mocha Espresso Cheese Cake?"_ _

__"Gimme both." Matches returned the expression - and on him it worked. "It's in the  
ticket - right?"_ _

__"Matches!" The cry turned heads._ _

__Bruce ambled back to the blonde. "Just staying in character."_ _

__Goldie put one hand on his shoulder - and the other on the Kir Tart. "You won't eat  
either."_ _

__"But you will." Matches lifted Goldie's spare hand, kissing it lightly before wrapping the  
fingers around the second dessert. "Waste not- want not."_ _

__That earned a snort. "*Waist* not in your case."_ _

__"Which is why I'm not eating them." Matches - or rather Bruce - whispered back in the  
voice of reason. "Besides - at the price of these tickets?"_ _

__"Which you didn't pay for." Goldie moved the four empty plates aside, making room  
for the two newcomers._ _

__"I can send a donation later." Bruce took a sip of the coffee that Goldie had picked out  
for him. Caffeine free, no sugar, no cream. "Confess. You didn't *want* to choose  
between them."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__"What are they..." Matches squinted at the waiters, who were observably delivering  
long stemmed red roses to all the *other* tables._ _

__"Donation envelopes." Goldie answered after a blink. At the very Bruce eyebrow, J'onn  
smiled. "You didn't think they were doing this *just* for the ticket sales. This is...What  
was it you called it last Christmas? The polite shake down."_ _

__Bruce nodded - then frowned. "Why didn't we get one?" He raised his hand. "Hey!  
Buddy! Yeh - you!"_ _

__The waiter vanished. Bat-style._ _

__Goldie giggled._ _

__"What?"_ _

__That brought another giggle. "Guess we don't look like donors."_ _

__"Hey! Back there!" Matches waved again - this time at a fast moving shadow behind the  
rose hedge._ _

__"Matches!" Goldie caught his hand. "You couldn't write a check anyway, could you?"_ _

__"No but" Bruce grinned his too-rare little boy grin. "I was enjoying the thought of their  
faces when..." Pulling out Malone's battered vinyl wallet, he fanned a stack of  
hundreds._ _

__"You could give it to Ilsa Smoot on the way out."_ _

__Matches half-stood. Then slumped back. "Nah. Then they'd know. That takes all the fun  
out of it."_ _

__^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)_ _

__"Thank you for coming." Mrs. Betsie VanderHoot fluttered as the ladies strolled out the  
front doors, distributing air kisses. "Muffy. Buffy." She patted shoulders. "Sharleene,  
dearest, always a pleasure." Another three gray heads, and another flurry of chiffon.  
"Laurie. Donna. Marcie - Such a joy to see you here. I hope you..." She reached the  
Malone pair, and stepped back. "Ummm... all... enjoyed the tour."_ _

__"Ya. Great place ya got here."_ _

__"Oh!" Another step back. Another clutch at the pearls. "Umm. How... kind of you...  
Mr..."_ _

__"Malone." Bruce gave her the smile that somehow - against all evidence - convinced one  
that the speaker was missing at least one tooth. "Matches Malone." _ _

__"Quite a... surprise." Ilsa Smoot hustled up. "We get so few... gentlemen on these tours.  
And... " A look at Goldie - followed by what was not quite a shiver. "Younger ladies."_ _

__"I sorta noticed."_ _

__Ilsa moved between the pair and the way back. "Do you have... interest ... in historical  
architecture?_ _

__"Nah!" Matches held out his arm, ready to help Goldie onto the bus. "Just casing the  
joint!"_ _

__To be continued..._ _

__**********date 8*******************_ _

__30/30: Among Us  
by nw's chick_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: G_ _

__* indicates emphasis *  
/ indicates telepathy /_ _

__~*~_ _

__It was a crisp autumn morning, the quaint college town bedecked in the finest the  
season had to offer; rows of trees in full fall plumage, bright blue sky dotted with puffy  
white clouds, the air refreshingly cool, and the ground crunching under their feet from  
the fallen leaves._ _

__Perfect football weather, everyone around them said as they passed._ _

__"*This* is a perfect date?" Bruce's tone was clearly derisive._ _

__J'onn grinned, pretending to sigh. "It *is* different, you can't argue with that!"_ _

__"Who would think of a college football game as a perfect date?" Bruce was glaring at  
the chosen form of his lover with suspicion. _ _

__Shrugging, "Someone who is a fan of college football. C'mon, get into the spirit of  
things! It's a beautiful day, it's supposed to be a great game, and we should be back  
from the requisite date early enough for you to catch up with your night work."_ _

__Frowning, Bruce looked at his watch, a cheap grocery store Seiko, to fit in with his  
'costume.' "Well, the game doesn't start for hours. What are we supposed to do until  
then?"_ _

__"According to my research, this school is famous for tailgating. We could join up, bum  
some beer off of people... On second thought, never mind..." J'onn never got tired of  
teasing him. "Are you hungry? There's supposed to be a great stand selling steak  
sandwiches around here somewhere..."_ _

__J'onn dragged Bruce around the charming campus, never relenting in his hunt for the  
elusive steak sandwich. _ _

__Bruce had to repress the urge to pout. It wasn't so much that he minded being here; he  
just preferred to spend time with J'onn alone. The swarms of people here were  
disconcerting, to say the least. Of course, his annoyance was only heightened by the  
fact that J'onn blended in perfectly. They were both wearing jeans, shirts, and  
sweatshirts emblazoned with the school's logo, but J'onn's brunette ponytail, lean but  
not slim hips, and curvy soccer-momish body made the Martian seem just like any  
other woman wearing the school colors on campus. _ _

__There were times when, no matter how good his cover was, Bruce could just *feel* how  
poorly he blended in._ _

__When they finally found the steak sandwich vendor, Bruce recoiled in disgust. "You  
*are* kidding. That must be at least 80% cholesterol!" He tried to use his stern voice,  
but that was a waste of time with J'onn._ _

__Rolling her eyes, J'onn grinned at him wickedly. "Right, and escargot is soooo healthy.  
Now, c'mon! Don't be a spoilsport! After we get some food, we'll go find the band.  
Oh, and the cheerleaders are performing around here somewhere too! We can find  
them, then listen to the band, then follow them to the game. It'll be great!"_ _

__Bruce sighed internally. They did find the cheerleaders, and the band, and J'onn  
cheered along with the crowd as they made their way to the stadium._ _

__"I could have gotten us a skybox, you know," Bruce grumbled as they elbowed their  
way up the stairs to their seats._ _

__J'onn sighed. "That's not the point, silly! Fifty yard line, home team side, right in the  
middle of the lower section! Best seats in the house. I checked."_ _

__Bruce let out an infinitesimal sigh. The stadium was old, one of the oldest in the  
country, so for seats there were benches with closely packed numbers for each 'seat.'  
Bruce resisted a mumbled protest as he had to wedge himself in between his lover and  
a stocky guy with a huge drink, a plate of nachos, a portable TV, and a pair of  
binoculars dangling from his neck. _ _

__/Stop being such a grump!/ J'onn teased him through their bond. /Can't you enjoy  
the pageantry at all?/_ _

__/It's not my thing, really. I mean, look at all these people! They're all so... so.../  
Instead of words, Bruce transmitted an impression, a feeling, of being alone in the  
middle of a crowd, of being surrounded by a mass of people who he could never be a  
part of, people who were *normal* in ways he could never even dream of being. All  
these people had families and jobs and hobbies and gripes and pet peeves and friends  
and ex-boyfriends or girlfriends and watched sitcoms and debated the news and  
bought mutual funds. He had no frame of reference with which to understand them._ _

__J'onn responded with a warm wave of understanding. Before he tried to form words  
with his thoughts, he let his consciousness snuggle up to Bruce's, dispelling his sense of  
isolation. /Of course I know what you mean, Bruce. When I first came to Earth,  
everything I saw and heard and sensed just... confused me. I wore the face of the  
people I was surrounded by, but they were as foreign to me in every conceivable way  
as could be._ _

__/It took time for me to understand humanity well enough to feel comfortable amongst  
them. What I learned was, though, I didn't need to understand them to feel  
comfortable. I could wear their faces, and talk as they did, and say what they expected  
of me, and no one would think me in the slightest way odd./_ _

__J'onn paused, obviously composing his thoughts. Bruce respected the silence, letting his  
own thoughts drift over what J'onn had already said. _ _

__/Today, you get to be like me, in a way. Certainly, these people are as alien to you as  
they are to me, but we both are undercover among them, so to speak, infiltrating their  
ranks. Look around you, Bruce. There are 80,000 people here! The game is less than 30  
yards away from us! We are part of this, alien or not. We are part of this game, this  
experience... We get to pretend, for a time, that we belong here with everyone else./_ _

__Along with the words, washes of emotion and concepts not framed in expression  
spilled into Bruce. He looked around, at the coziness of the stadium, at how rapidly it  
had filled up with humanity, at how close they were to the action, at how everyone  
blended together in a unit, extensions of the teams they came to watch win. He could  
feel from J'onn what something like this meant, the chance to be a part of a society, to  
be one among many who were alike, even if it was undercover._ _

__Smiling, Bruce turned to watch the band play the national anthem, squeezing J'onn's  
soft hand in his affectionately._ _

__They watched the kickoff, cheering with the rest of the home team crowd, getting to  
their feet at the end of the first quarter as the receiver ran long to just catch the pass  
right before falling into the end zone. They booed the ref when he penalized them 15  
yards in a questionable call few in the stadium could see well enough to judge. They  
jumped up and down at the interception._ _

__During halftime, they stood in line with dozens of others to get hot chocolate, and a soft  
pretzel to share, getting back in time to see the home team's band do a little dance that  
looked goofy and funny._ _

__They cheered with the crowds, they watched the bands, they groused about the TV  
time outs, they made a bathroom break (during which J'onn considered morphing into  
a male just so that he wouldn't have to wait in the long line for the ladies' room), they  
screamed when the final seconds were ticking down and the team was fighting for each  
yard that would get them closer to field goal range, they gave everyone around them  
high-fives when they ended up winning in the last minute, and they sang along with  
everyone else as the band played the fight song and the alma mater._ _

__Driving back to the small airport the private jet was waiting, Bruce held J'onn's hand,  
resting on J'onn's thigh, and was grateful that the link between them made any words  
of apology for lack of faith in J'onn's pick for a perfect date unnecessary._ _

__Just as they were about to reach the car rental drop-off, Bruce pulled over enough to  
grab J'onn's face, a little ruddy from the day and the excitement, and kissed her. They  
lingered for ever-stretching moments, just comfortably tasting each other._ _

__Resting his forehead against J'onn's, Bruce smiled with his eyes closed. "Do you  
suppose," he whispered, as if it were a secret, "that there is anything wrong with me,  
that I have more in common with a Martian than with other humans?"_ _

__J'onn playfully grinned, his tapers fingers toying with the tendrils of hair around  
Bruce's ears. "I can't think of a think wrong with that. Certainly works well for me."_ _

__"You *may* be biased."_ _

__"Yes, but I don't see anything wrong with that, either."_ _

__~*~_ _

__To be continued..._ _

__

__************date 9***************_ _

__30/30: On Ice  
by Chicago_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: G_ _

__"Oof!"_ _

__Two slender legs splayed straight out at right angles to one another. A pleated mini-  
skirt fluttered down to settle over tights-clad thighs and describe a circle of powder blue  
on the ice. Three feet higher, blue-green eyes opened wide in surprise._ _

__*shshisishhshhh*_ _

__Black skate boots skidded to a stop. A glove clad hand reached down, offering aid.  
Beyond the outstretched hand, a pair of clear blue eyes gazed down, accompanied by a  
kindly smile._ _

__"Madeleine," Bruce Wayne said, helping the flustered and slightly winded blonde to her  
feet._ _

__"Yes, Bruce?" the woman replied, her teeth beginning to chatter._ _

__Bruce gallantly wrapped his arms around her from behind, sharing his body heat with  
her and kissing her ear. "I don't think ice skating is us."_ _

__Madeleine van Landingham nodded in agreement, letting Bruce hold her close and help  
her pick her way gingerly to the safety of the ice rink wall. If she leaned on him  
perhaps more than she truly needed to? Shivered with the cold that couldn't touch her,  
prompting him to hold her closer? Close enough that she could feel his warmth, could  
smell the aftershave and sweat that mingled into an intoxicating musk on his skin? And  
if Bruce felt compelled to brush his hands lightly across her backside, assuring himself  
that she hadn't been injured in her fall?_ _

__All merely confirmation of his statement. Ice-skating wasn't for them._ _

__She closed her eyes as Bruce Wayne planted a soft kiss at the base of her neck._ _

__No, definitely not for them._ _

__To be continued..._ _

__

__*******************date 10************************************_ _

__30/30 - Going to the Dogs  
by Darklady and Chicago_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: PG_ _

__Lavender Larkspur sat in the lilac sitting room of Wayne Manor , her lover's purple  
iBook open on her lap._ _

__"This is different." She turned the machine out so Bruce could see the square of text  
marked out by the turquoise highlighter._ _

__"A *dog* show?" The tone carried not only the obvious question, but several others.  
Such as... `what the hell are you up to now' and `what response will get me out of this'.  
Not to mention a bit of `how the hell did I let myself get talked *into* this game in the  
first place'. _ _

__"The Coast City Grand National All-Breeds Show." An edge of pout tinted the rose petal  
lips. Not serious - or taken so by either party - but still a message that the suggestion  
was not merely a artifact of J'onn's strange humor. Or rather that - while it very well  
might be - the chances were still dangerously high that they were in fact headed to  
Coast City._ _

__Bruce summoned his inner tactician - considered the odds - and surrendered. "As long  
as you don't plan on going as a dog." After all how much trouble could a bunch of pups  
be? And if it got dull? Since its restoration, Coast City had reclaimed it's reputation as  
one America's most romantic cities. He was *sure* he and... whoever.. could find some  
way to... amuse themselves._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__Desiree Lessing admired the prize Bichon Frise and listened idly to a pair of older  
women kibitzing about the injustice of such a fine specimen being denied Best in Show.  
She smiled to herself as they expressed the incomprehensibility that a BOXER of all  
breeds should have taken top honors. The travesty!_ _

__Her thoughts were interrupted as a pair of arms snaked around her waist and a chin  
lowered onto her shoulder. "Looks like that dog spent more time in front of the mirror  
this morning than you did," Bruce remarked._ _

__Desiree elbowed him in the ribs good-naturedly. "Beauty is not effortless," she pointed  
out._ _

__Bruce's lips brushed the space behind her ear. "It is for you," he whispered. "Can we go  
now?"_ _

__Desiree pulled out of his arms and shook her head at him. "Bruce, we've barely been  
here half an hour."_ _

__Bruce shrugged. "How long does it take to look at a bunch of dogs?"_ _

__She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a *look,* earning a sigh from him._ _

__"Fine, we'll look at more dogs." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and began  
leading her away from the Bichon Frise breeder. "But at least let's look at something  
other than an old lady dog."_ _

__One of the women Desiree had been eavesdropping on earlier gave Bruce a hostile  
look, and Desiree leaned into him a little in a half shielding gesture. Not that Bruce  
noticed; he was heading toward the part of the show arena where most of the  
Doberman and Rottweiler breeders were._ _

__Not that he wanted to be there, either._ _

__Desiree read his feeling easily and stopped, halting them both. Bruce gave her an  
inquiring look._ _

__"You're having a miserable time, aren't you?" Desiree asked._ _

__Bruce started to shrug, then seemed to realize the futility of pretending to be at best  
indifferent. "I'm not enjoying it," he confessed. "I keep thinking I'll realize why you  
were so keen to do this..."_ _

__Desiree reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze, then led him to the nearest  
breeder display. One of the handlers there was working with an Australian Terrier, and  
Desiree nodded in that direction. "Watch the dog," she remarked, noting the alertness  
with which it responded to its handler. "And look at the human, the bond of trust that  
just radiates there."_ _

__Bruce followed Desiree's gaze and obediently watched for a moment. "J'onn," he  
protested quietly, "I don't need dogs to teach me about trust."_ _

__Desiree shook her head. "That's not the point, Bruce. Didn't you ever have - well, want  
\- a dog?"_ _

__"No," Bruce answered flatly. "When would I have time for one? Alfred wouldn't-"_ _

__"Never?" Desiree pushed._ _

__Bruce turned and began walking, forcing Desiree to take a couple of quick steps to catch  
up with him. _ _

__"Bruce?" She reached out to halt him again, and he allowed her to._ _

__"I never did want a dog," he reiterated._ _

__"But-"_ _

__Bruce glanced around the spacious convention center. "Can we go outside?"_ _

__Desiree caught his arm and began to steer him towards the nearest exit. "I'm sorry,"  
she murmured. "I never got a sense from you that dogs -"_ _

__"No, it's not like that. They don't -" Bruce sighed as Desiree pushed open the exit door  
and led him out onto a grassy lawn which looked out over the ocean._ _

__"Explain," she urged, spying a stone bench and heading toward it._ _

__He waited until they were seated to begin speaking again. "Dick wanted a dog, back  
when he was a boy."_ _

__A surprised expression crossed Desiree's face. "And you said no? I'm surprised -"_ _

__"I didn't say no," Bruce corrected, and Desiree noticed that his watch had loosened and  
was trailing down his hand to tangle in his fingers. Bruce watched Ace play for a  
moment with a hint of a smile, then turned his gaze out toward the view of the ocean.  
"It wasn't long after Dick had come to live with me, when he was really just beginning  
his training as Robin. He missed all the animals at the circus."_ _

__Desiree nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine."_ _

__"Alfred said something about it to me first, that maybe a pet would fill some of the ache  
for Dick. I think he knew I wouldn't expect it as something Dick would want, but the  
warning was enough for me to be ready when Dick asked."_ _

__"What happened?"_ _

__Bruce blinked and looked back down at Ace, running a thumb over the surface of the  
little zo'ok. "He asked if I would let him have a dog -" a hint of a smile crossed Bruce's  
features - "even came up with this notion of a Bathound and how great it would be."_ _

__"Bathound?"_ _

__Bruce glanced at Desiree. "You didn't honestly think I originally named the car the  
Batmobile, did you?"_ _

__A dimple showed on Desiree's right cheek as she smiled at the image. "So you've been  
humoring him all this time. Uh huh. But what happened? About the dog."_ _

__"I told him to research how much time a dog would take and come back with a  
proposal."_ _

__"You didn't. Bruce, he was -"_ _

__"Nine. And yes, I did. I reminded him to factor in his responsibilities in the Cave and to  
school. I explained that he could not rely on Alfred to take care of feeding and  
housebreaking and all the other things a dog would require."_ _

__"And?"_ _

__"He was ecstatic. He was only half-listening to me in his eagerness to see what was in  
the family library and write up a list of questions."_ _

__Desiree smiled, resting a hand on Bruce's knee. "I can picture that. He still gets that  
eager look sometimes."_ _

__"Yeah, I know." Bruce's tone was heavy._ _

__"Bruce?"_ _

__"He never mentioned it again. He went off to do his research and I think he realized-"_ _

__Desiree scooted closer and rested her head on Bruce's shoulder, wrapping on arm  
around him and stroking her hand over his torso comfortingly. "He realized what you  
wanted him to realize. That it was a bad idea."_ _

__Bruce stared at Ace with the kind of focus that implied he wasn't seeing it at all. "Yeah,"  
he admitted softly. "I felt bad, though. We could've found a way, and it would have  
made him happy..."_ _

__"Oh, Bruce," Desiree breathed, pulling him toward her and letting him pillow his head  
against her breast. She kissed the top of his head as she held him and stared out over  
the ocean, wondering how shocked the hero world would be at the all-too-feeling heart  
of the Bat. He had carried this regret so long..._ _

__A little bark sounded, and both Bruce and Desiree started. At their feet, a very small  
puppy sat and wagged its tail eagerly, barking again._ _

__"What-?" Desiree began._ _

__"Ace?" Bruce asked._ _

__The puppy barked once more, rising up to rest its front paws on Bruce's pants leg and  
wagging its tail more energetically._ _

__"Ace?" Desiree echoed, staring incredulously at the excited brown eyes of the puppy.  
"I've never-"_ _

__"Down, Ace," Bruce ordered, and the puppy instantly obeyed, returning to its sitting  
position and still gazing at Bruce adoringly._ _

__Desiree shook her head. "Something new every day," she remarked, reaching down to  
pet the silky ears of the puppy._ _

__It managed a wriggle without shifting from its position, and Bruce smiled. He slapped  
his knee a couple of times in a signal, and Ace abruptly leapt up, abandoning puppy  
form, and twined around Bruce's wrist to again become his watch. "I guess if it can be a  
furry it makes just as much sense..."_ _

__Desiree nodded, conceding the point, tearing her eyes away from the now-watch to  
meet Bruce's lightened expression. "Are we done with the dog show?" she asked._ _

__"If you still want-"_ _

__She shook her head, brushing her fingers through his hair. "No. I think I'd rather go  
home and watch old movies with my favorite boyfriend and his dog, Spot."_ _

__Bruce raised his eyebrow at her. "You've been hanging out in southern California  
again, haven't you?"_ _

__"Duh," Desiree remarked, straightening up and making a half-conscious check of her  
coiffe. "Where else would a successful print ad designer live?"_ _

__"Gotham?" he ventured, leaning in to kiss her cheek._ _

__She turned her head to catch his lips, easily coaxing a warm kiss from him. "Mmm, Mr.  
Wayne," she purred. "I could be persuaded."_ _

__Bruce kissed her again, then pulled back. "Wait. What do you mean 'favorite'  
boyfriend?"_ _

__Desiree laughed and rose to her feet, holding her hand out to him. "Most liked,  
regarded with special affection," she recited. "I.e. you." She met his lips again as he  
stood and felt herself swept into the passion of a thorough kiss that left her breathless.  
"Yeah," she sighed. "Definitely you."_ _

__To be continued..._ _

__************date 11********************_ _

__Puppy Love  
By Darklady and Chicago_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: G_ _

__Bruce Wayne rested his head against the leather wing of the leather armchair, dismay  
shading into despair as a black and tan ball of fluff toothed though the tassels of one of  
his abandoned loafers. A Papillion, to go by the ears. Which was, Bruce wearily  
conceded, and improvement on the Yorkie that had terrorized this same chamber  
fifteen minutes before. At least in terms of volume._ _

__The dog show may have bored Bruce - but it had inspired Ace._ _

__Since breakfast, the little Martian creature had morphed it's way though a copious  
number of toy breeds - presumably all pulled from Bruce's personal recollections of  
past mis-encounters. Unfortunately... Bruce watched the furry form morph again. Black  
and white this time. A Shih Tzu, by the flat nose. No change to the teeth, to judge by  
the dissolution rate of his former footwear._ _

__*Unfortunately*... Bruce Wayne life had apparently intersected with a shocking number  
of the little pests. Starting with 'Aunt Harriet's' obese poodle, and working trough to  
which ever imposition on his social forbearance this particular specimen had been._ _

__Despite the... cultivated... general belief, neither Bruce Wayne nor the Batman's  
memory was *actually* elephantine. Retention required a certain... attentiveness.  
Attentiveness which he had not devoted to the sundry lap yappers of his female  
acquaintances. But then?_ _

__"Please! Ace!"_ _

__Bruce lifted his foot quickly out of range. The loafer might be lost - but he drew the line  
at yielding a sock. Before today he had not entered 'companion breeds' on his list of  
potential threats._ _

__Apparently an oversight._ _

__Bruce glowered as the now- Chihuahua left off pawing at his toes in favor of a  
maddened race around the room - apparently in pursuit of invisible mice. Or some  
such. Whoever would have though tiny toenails could make so much *noise*?_ _

__Bruce sighed. He couldn't leave the little creature. It was - after all - a symbiote. And an  
animal. And thus acting innocently according to its nature._ _

__A little voice inside his head mocked him with the reminder of just where he had heard  
all those arguments before - and just how little he had been moved by them at the time.  
Still, as the dog book said... He glanced down at the volume open on his lap... a  
misbehaving animal was the sign of an unprepared owner. Which meant it was *his*  
duty and his alone to correct matters. _ _

__He ignored the section in chapter one subheaded 'Why Some People Should Not Own  
Dogs.' He had one, so..._ _

__"Ace?" Bruce kept his voice low but firm, just as recommended in chapter two. He  
patted the side of the chair gently, exactly as suggested in chapter three._ _

__The King Charles Spaniel trotted over._ _

__Excellent. Exactly as predicted._ _

__"Good Ace!"_ _

__Positive feedback - just as in chapter four._ _

__The tiny plumed tail thumped the floor. So far - so good._ _

__Opening the book to its center section, Bruce picked out once of the large color photos.  
Lowering it to just one inch before Ace's twitching ebony nose, he commanded.  
"Rottweiler, Ace! Rottweiler!"_ _

__The spaniel cocked its head curiously, looking up at Bruce with inquiring brown eyes.  
Bruce kept his expression stern, and Ace began to grow, its fur getting shorter and  
glossier over muscled dog flesh._ _

__Bruce allowed himself a trace of a grin. "That's better," he stated approvingly, closing  
the book._ _

__Ace took advantage of his fleeting distraction to plant its front paws on the edge of the  
chair and begin licking Bruce's face._ _

__"Ace!" Bruce objected ineffectually, pushing his hands against the chest of what he  
suddenly realized was meant by a large breed._ _

__"Master Bruce? What-"_ _

__Before Alfred could finish his alarmed sentence, Ace suddenly shrunk down,  
abandoning any hint of canine form and zipping up Bruce's sleeve. Bruce reached into  
his pocket for a handkerchief, scrubbing at his dog-slobbered features. "Yes, Alfred?"_ _

__Alfred gave him a puzzled look. "Am I to infer that what I just witnessed was  
something to do with this 'zo'ok' you have mentioned before?"_ _

__"That's Ace, yes," Bruce confirmed, eager to change the subject._ _

__Alfred bent down to pick up one of the much abused loafers on the floor, wrinkling his  
nose in well-mannered disdain. "I trust this will not become a habitual use of your  
footwear."_ _

__Bruce hid a guilty wince. "Maybe we should keep that pair around," he suggested  
awkwardly. A little bark reinforced the point, and Bruce realized belatedly that Ace had  
once again found its way to the floor, this time taking on the dimensions of a miniature  
Dachshund puppy. Its tail wagged eagerly as it sat at Bruce's feet and looked  
appealingly up at Alfred._ _

__Alfred looked from puppy to shoe and back. "Very well. I will put these *downstairs*  
where the furnishings are more suited to the ravages of housebreaking."_ _

__"Yes, Alfred," Bruce agreed meekly, reaching down to stroke Ace's ears and encourage  
the little zo'ok back to its normal disguise as his wrist watch._ _

__Alfred picked up the second demolished loafer. "Miss Sareeta Punjabnalaram is waiting  
for you downstairs. I believe you have a date?"_ _

__Bruce nodded and stood up, careful not to step on the still-puppy-form Ace. "Please let  
her know I will be down shortly."_ _

__"Very well, Master Bruce."_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__Rottweiler Ace barked and kept pace at Bruce's side as he loped over the lawn. "It's  
working!" Sareeta exclaimed with delight, watching as the kite she released caught the  
brisk autumn wind and began to rise in the air._ _

__Bruce slowed his run, letting out line as fast as the kite would take it, careful not to  
allow it to go slack. The brightly colored kite rose higher and higher against the crisp  
blue of the sky. Sareeta caught up to Bruce and Ace, eyes wide and laughing. "It's so  
pretty," she remarked._ _

__"You want to try it?" Bruce asked, carefully maintaining the line tension._ _

__Sareeta smiled shyly. "You think I could do it?"_ _

__Bruce nodded, settling the spool into one hand and reaching the other invitingly to  
Sareeta. Sareeta moved into the circle of his arms, pressing her back against his body as  
he placed her hands on the spool. "You want to feed it as much line as it can take  
without letting it go slack," he explained._ _

__"Okay," she said hesitantly, putting her hands gingerly beside his._ _

__"Get a better grip there," he directed. "Can you feel it?"_ _

__"It's fighting me!" she delighted, moving her arms against the tug of the kite._ _

__"That's it," Bruce encouraged, leaning his face forward to breathe in the scent of her  
ebony hair. He lowered his lips to her ear. "Let a little more line out... that's it..."_ _

__"I've never done this before," Sareeta marveled. "It feels almost like it's alive."_ _

__"I know," Bruce agreed. "You ready to take full charge?"_ _

__"Um-"_ _

__"I'll be right here," he promised. "Hold tight."_ _

__She nervously obeyed as Bruce removed his hands from the spool. "Keep letting out  
line," he coached._ _

__She complied, struggling a little as a sudden gust caught the soaring kite. Then the line  
went unexpectedly slack, and the kite began to dive toward the ground._ _

__"Oh!" Sareeta gasped, and beside them Ace began to bark._ _

__Bruce reached forward, reclaiming the spool, expertly halting the kite's dive and  
steering it back to a steady current. "It's okay," he reassured. "Ace, calm down. See,  
Sareeta. It's heading back up."_ _

__"Wow," Sareeta breathed, her hands under Bruce's tightening on the spool._ _

__Bruce brushed a kiss over her ear. "A few more minutes and we should be able to plant  
the spool and just watch it."_ _

__Sareeta nodded, intent on keeping the kite aloft._ _

__"You ready to take charge again?" Bruce asked._ _

__Another distracted nod, earning a smile as Bruce released the kite string and stepped  
back._ _

__"I'll set up the picnic, then," he told her._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__"Y'know," Sareeta commented, "I've never seen a zo'ok do something like this before."_ _

__Bruce pulled her closer on the blanket. "So you mentioned yesterday. What's different  
about it?"_ _

__Sareeta gestured toward the Rottweiler sniffing around the blanket. "This kind of  
independent animal."_ _

__"Not so independent," Bruce pointed out. "It won't go more than 20 feet away from  
me."_ _

__"Well, it's still a symbiote, but still." She fingered the zipper of the windbreaker she was  
wearing. "Zo'ok is always part of me. It acts on its own to a limited degree, but the  
kind of bond..."_ _

__Bruce kissed Sareeta's forehead. "You're Martian. Natural environment."_ _

__"True enough. It's still interesting, the way it's half bonded. It makes me wonder at the  
adaptability. And the way perhaps Mars limited-"_ _

__"Shh," Bruce interrupted. "No weird guilt over zo'oks allowed."_ _

__As if to emphasize the point, Ace paused in its restless exploration of the blanket's edge  
and stuck its nose in Sareeta's face, giving a rough lick to one cheek. Sareeta laughed  
and pushed the zo'ok away. "Fine, fine," she conceded. She settled more comfortably  
against Bruce's chest and sighed. "It really is a beautiful day."_ _

__Bruce nodded, kissing her neck. "And beautiful company."_ _

__Sareeta smiled and turned, giving him access to her lips. He leaned her back, putting a  
fiery intensity into their kiss that was interrupted when her eyes suddenly went wide  
and she pushed him back. "The kite!"_ _

__Bruce looked up as the line snapped and the wind carried the brightly colored silk off  
over the Bristol cliffs. Ace froze in its exploration and gave a little yip, disappearing up  
Bruce's sleeve._ _

__Bruce patted the little creature reassuringly. "We can get another one," he pointed out._ _

__Ace only trembled and stayed at Bruce's wrist. Bruce looked at Sareeta, who shrugged  
and took Bruce's hand. The fabric of her windbreaker brushed Bruce's wrist, and she  
leaned in to kiss him again. "Don't worry, Ace," she murmured as Bruce's hands pulled  
her closer. "We're not letting anything else get away."_ _

__"Agreed," Bruce confirmed, once more claiming Sareeta's lips and proving he meant his  
promise._ _

__To be continued..._ _

__********date 12**************_ _

__The Bodyguard  
by nw's chick_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: G  
~*~_ _

__Eliza didn't even look up as the door to the apartment swung open. Still keeping her  
gaze fixed on the textbook she was pretending to be reading, she asked her  
roommates, "And where have you guys been all day?"_ _

__Chelsea was practically bouncing with glee. "Where else?!? We went to the  
Symposium for Extraterrestrial Exobiology and Sociology! And you'll never guess  
what happened?!?!"_ _

__Eliza continued to highlight random passages in her text. "You went to an alien  
convention."_ _

__"We met Martian Manhunter! *The* Martian Manhunter! From the Justice League!"  
She continued to bounce in place as their third roommate rolled her eyes._ _

__Delia plopped down on the couch, completely unimpressed by their afternoon's  
excursion. "It would have been cooler if it was Superman. Or Superboy!"_ _

__"You went to an alien convention." Eliza spared her roommates a moment's glance._ _

__Chelsea huffed, annoyed. "Superboy isn't an alien, Delia, he's a clone. I think.  
Anyway, I can't believe you weren't more impressed! Wasn't he a great public  
speaker? The way he talked... it was like we were there! Oh, Eliza, you would have  
loved it! He talked for over an hour, all about Martian culture and civilization, and  
what happened to them, and Martian physiology, what kind of powers he has... He's so  
cool! He can be invisible, and change forms!" She sighed, breathily. "He's just *so*  
great."_ _

__Delia snorted. "You're stalking him, aren't you? You should be careful, Chelse, he's in  
the Justice League you know..."_ _

__"Alien convention." Eliza drew a box around a diagram, filling in some of the blank  
spaces absently._ _

__Chelsea blushed. "I'm not stalking him! I just think he's really interesting!"_ _

__"And cool. And funny. And smart. And sexy..." Delia rolled her eyes as she searched  
the couch cushions for the remote._ _

__Chelsea sputtered. "I... I didn't... I don't...! Well, he *is* sexy! I mean, he's green, I  
know, but... still! He *is* smart, and the brain is the largest sexual organ, isn't it?"_ _

__Delia just rolled her eyes again._ _

__"And anyway, I can't believe that you weren't more excited! There are whole other  
worlds out there, galaxies and planets that we know nothing about, but that have fully  
evolved sociopolitical systems, and cultures... I just can't understand why anyone  
*wouldn't* be excited about the prospect of learning about new and alien cultures!"  
Chelsea sat down in a huff. Her roommates were so limited sometimes._ _

__"Aliens." Eliza twirled the highlighter, trying to keep it in motion for as long as possible._ _

__"Well... there was that one thing..." Delia sat up, a smile creeping across her face._ _

__"Yeah?" Chelsea sat forward. Finally, Delia was going to admit that she was interested!_ _

__"Didja get a look at his bodyguard? Talk about a man!" Delia's eyes went distant as she  
remembered the Martian's tall, muscular bodyguard... his close-cropped, bleach blonde  
hair slicked back, those steely-cool shades, and that sexy scar running down his cheek..._ _

__Chelsea groaned. "The bodyguard! Oh, man... That guy was a jerk! Did you see how  
he was glaring at everyone who went up to get the Martian Manhunter's autograph?"_ _

__Delia grinned. "Oh, yeah, he looked like a real tiger..."_ _

__Eliza and Chelsea shared a look. Delia and her dangerous men..._ _

__"What did he need a bodyguard for, anyway? He's in the freakin' Justice League! What  
was going to happen that the bodyguard could take care of, but he couldn't?" Chelsea  
crossed her arms over her chest, put out._ _

__Delia winked at her. "Maybe he just keeps him around for sex!"_ _

__"Ew!" Chelsea threw a small pillow at her roommate. "Get your mind out of the  
gutter!"_ _

__Eliza snapped her text shut. "You are both... so *weird*."_ _

__~*~_ _

__Bruce pulled the scar off his face. He was glad to be rid of the skullcap and wig; it had  
been itching like crazy. "I hate to say this, but... I think we need to go out again  
tonight."_ _

__J'onn looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"_ _

__"Well, that wasn't much of a date, was it? We didn't even get to wander off alone at  
any point... I was your body guard." Bruce shrugged. "That can't count, can it?"_ _

__Smirking, J'onn sashayed closer. "You obviously don't know much about  
bodyguarding." Before Bruce could react, J'onn simultaneously leapt into his arms and  
transformed._ _

__Bruce found himself holding a smirking Whitney Houston dressed in a silvery, slutty  
costume. _ _

__"See, there's still the part where you carry me off to safety can comfort me for all my  
pain and anguish..." J'onn fluttered his Whitney eyes, smirking uncontrollably._ _

__Bruce managed to smirk back as he lowered his face slightly to J'onn's Whitney face.  
"You should transform again quickly, before I decide to let you fall on your tush."_ _

__J'onn laughed, transforming into a leggy redhead, with ample, well-revealed cleavage._ _

__Bruce smiled, squeezing J'onn gently in his arms. "*Much* better."_ _

__He only took two steps towards the bed when J'onn started crooning, "And I-eee-I, will  
al-ways lo-ove you-oooooh!"_ _

__Bruce dropped the arm under her legs first at least, so that she had a fighting chance of  
landing on her feet. "There is a point, you know, where your obsession with movies  
becomes less charming and more annoying."_ _

__~*~_ _

__To be continued..._ _

__**********date 13***********_ _

__Two Step  
By Smitty_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"_ _

__Rating: PG_ _

__Sanderson Hawkins looked down at the woman whose legs were wrapped around his  
waist. His back ached and sweat beaded around his hairline and on the back of his  
neck. He gripped her hips tightly and grinned savagely, hiking her body further up his  
torso. He dipped low, tilting her head to the floor and hoping she'd thrown her feet  
high. He shoved her body to the left, twisting her under his arm and throwing her  
over his back. A step and pivot and she was back in his arms. Palms pressed together,  
he pushed her arm up, then stepped past her and to the side, tugging her brusquely  
around and throwing her over his arm as the last exclamatory notes of "Sing, Sing,  
Sing" echoed through the room._ _

__He eased his partner down, steadying her on her feet before wiping the back of his  
hand across his forehead._ _

__"Whew," he breathed, using his fingertips to pluck at the sweat-soaked shirt he wore.  
"Sorry if I was a bit off," he apologized. "I think the band was dragging a little. It felt a  
little slow to me."_ _

__"Ah..." Kendra Saunders replied breathlessly, resting shaky hands on her hips and  
bending at the waist to catch her breath. "Slow. Uh-huh."_ _

__Sand became aware of clapping behind them and turned to see Jack Knight and Dinah  
Lance grinning at the younger--in body at least--pair._ _

__"You didn't tell me you'd be doing stuff like that," Jack said wryly, then quirked his  
mouth to soften the admonition._ _

__"Sorry," Sand said between long breaths. "When did we lose you?"_ _

__"Oh, about when you threw Kendra between your legs," Dinah clarified. "You know,  
three, four seconds into the song."_ _

__Sand wrinkled his nose with a grin and accepted the bottle of water Dinah passed over  
to him. "Thanks. I guess I got carried away."_ _

__"Ahh," Kendra nodded, still looking shaky. "Carried away." She nodded again. "Ok.  
I'll be in the bathroom, wishing I hadn't had sushi for dinner, if anyone needs me," she  
told them, staggering off._ _

__"You think she's ok?" Sand asked gingerly, watching her go._ _

__"She's fine," Dinah assured him, pulling him over to the small table she and Jack had  
appropriated and offering him a chair. He collapsed into it gratefully and took a long  
pull from the water bottle._ _

__"We've been people watching," Jack told him. "There's a guy over there who's about a  
hundred and eight and might dance better than you, but he's your only competition."_ _

__"I have competition?" Sand frowned._ _

__"Don't worry," Dinah assured him. "Jack'll clock him in the knee with a two by four."_ _

__Sand's frown deepened, the reference lost on him._ _

__"Hey, is that Bruce Wayne?" Jack cut in to divert the attention away from Sand's  
confusion, nodding across the room at a tall, dark-haired man. "Dinah, you know rich  
people. That him?"_ _

__"Sure looks like him," Dinah answered mildly, hiding a slight smile behind her bottle of  
water._ _

__"That man," Jack informed Sand, taking a massive swig of his own water as he paused  
to put his hand on Sand's shoulder, "is so filthy rich, his butler has a butler."_ _

__"That's not quite right," Dinah corrected futilely._ _

__"He's so rich," Jack continued enthusiastically, no one's ever seen him drive the same car  
twice." _ _

__Dinah coughed discreetly into her hand._ _

__"The man's so rich," Jack declared, sliding his arm around Sand's shoulder and shaking  
him soundly, "he's got women lining up to go out with him. I saw him on the news  
four times last week--four times! And with a different woman each time! And Dinah  
heard from Roy who was on monitor duty--"_ _

__"Missile duty," Sand corrected._ _

__"--when Troia and the girl speedster, the looker, pulled his ass out of the fire last  
Thursday--"_ _

__"Thursday before last," Sand corrected._ _

__"--and said he was in the elevator with some knockout chick who I guess was a meta or  
something...Oh, and even before that, he was in *France* of all places, with some diva  
with legs that went all the way down to the floor, if you know what I mean--"_ _

__"He was at the opening night of the 'South Pacific' revival," Sand muttered wistfully.  
"Box seats."_ _

__"-- and then I was watching the Coast City Dog Show--"_ _

__"You were watching a dog show?" Sand interrupted, his water stalled halfway to his  
mouth._ _

__"Hey, it was on after 'Blacksheep Squadron'" Jack protested. "And I had this little chow  
when I was a kid..."_ _

__"A *chow*? You had a chow?"_ _

__"Hey, I like dogs," Jack said defensively. "Anyway, Bruce Wayne likes them too. He  
was there with some *other* woman."_ _

__"You mean one different from the previous five?"_ _

__"Four."_ _

__"Whatever."_ _

__"So I wonder what he's doing in this little dive?" Jack wondered, drinking again from  
his bottle of water. "I mean, not that *I* don't think it's great," he assured Sand, whose  
left eyebrow was starting to creep up his forehead, "but if I had billions of dollars to  
blow...so, um, what do you think he's doing here?" Jack finished lamely._ _

__"Maybe he wanted to go swing dancing," Sand pointed out._ _

__"In New York?" Jack asked, slouching in his chair. "Surely there's someplace closer to  
home. What do you think, Dinah? Why are they here?"_ _

__"I think," Dinah said carefully, a mischievous smile on her face, "that is sounds like  
someone's idea of a perfect date."_ _

__Sand's face blanked in recognition first, but Jack was the one who spit it out:_ _

__"Bruce Wayne knows Big Blue?"_ _

__"Swing dancing was *my* perfect date," Sand said thoughtfully. "You think Superman  
is trying to help Bruce Wayne come up with places to take his dates?"_ _

__"Like Bruce Wayne needs help," Jack scoffed. "More like helping Bruce Wayne's dates  
find places to take him."_ _

__"That's not possible," Sand pointed out, gesturing vaguely with his water bottle. "You  
said yourself that he has a different date each time. Superman can't possibly know *all*  
those women." He paused. "Unless they were all the *same* woman."_ _

__"Nah," Jack agreed. "There's no way all those girls could be the same person. I mean  
it's more than just haircolor and whatever. That one girl had to be six  
feet tall."_ _

__"Boys, boys, boys," Dinah said, clapping them both on the shoulders and poking her  
face between them. "Things are not always what they seem." She squeezed them both  
into a hug and then disappeared, ostensibly back to the bar._ _

__"J'onn J'onzz could do it," Sand said so quietly Jack almost didn't hear him._ _

__"Who--wha--hey..." Jack pondered this. "You're right." He squinted at the honey-  
blonde ponytail bobbing against Bruce Wayne's shoulder across the room. "You think  
that's really J'onzz?"_ _

__"I don't know," Sand confessed, still thoughtful. "Could be."_ _

__"So he's just morphing into different women to date Bruce Wayne?" Jack looked  
vaguely distressed. "I mean the guy's fun, but...does he *know*?"_ _

__"You mean that he's dating a Martian?" Sand looked dubious._ _

__"His bodyguard can't be too happy about that."_ _

__"What bodyguard?"_ _

__"Doesn't Wayne have a bodyguard? Some blonde chick with--"_ _

__"If you say legs that go down to the floor--"_ _

__"A really big gun?" Jack substituted, with a hopeful grin at Sand._ _

__Sand just shook his head and chuckled._ _

__"She's a hottie," Jack explained. "I just can't imagine that she likes him dating a different  
random chick each day."_ _

__"Because she's hot?"_ _

__"Well, ok, say she *doesn't* have the hots for Wayne. What kind of pain in the ass must  
it be to guard a guy who insists on picking up a new girl each time he goes out?"_ _

__"Point." Sand studied the people on the other side of the room. "I don't see a  
bodyguard. Where is she?"_ _

__"I dunno," Jack admitted. "I haven't seen her in a while."_ _

__"In a while tonight or in a while, since you've been obsessed with this Bruce Wayne's  
Social Life thing?"_ _

__"She used to trail him around," Jack explained. "She was tall and skinny and looked like  
she wanted to bite his head off and chew on it. And she's not here tonight. And I  
haven't seen her in...well, a while."_ _

__"Maybe she quit," Sand suggested. "Or maybe he fired her." His eyebrows raised as  
something occurred to him. "Maybe J'onzz is guarding Wayne. That'd be a hell of a  
cover, wouldn't it?"_ _

__Jack's eyebrow shot up. "You think they're..." He glanced sideways at Sand. "You  
know?"_ _

__"Jack," Sand admonished. "Not everyone's so--" He trailed off as he thought about it._ _

__"There's probably something extremely wrong with me," Jack murmured softly, sliding  
one hand into his pocket, "but I think it's time to go home."_ _

__Sand watched Bruce Wayne nuzzle the cheek of the petite woman dancing to "All That  
Jazz" with him and bit the inside of his cheek._ _

__"I think that's probably a good idea," he replied, his voice husky._ _

__"Ok, I'm back," Kendra announced, coming up behind them with Dinah. "What'd I  
miss?"_ _

__Jack and Sand shared a look and smiled._ _

__"Nothing," Sand told her. "Nothing at all."_ _

__To be continued..._ _

__**********date 14********************_ _

__Daily Planet  
Society Pages_ _

__DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME  
By Clark Kent_ _

__Gotham-based billionaire Bruce Wayne made quite a splash at the Metropolitan Club's  
annual masquerade ball. Or rather, his date did._ _

__Mr. Wayne arrived at the downtown Comorant Arms hotel with the winsome Ellery  
D'Ares on his arm. The flashbulbs were popping as Mr. Wayne emerged from his limo  
in the costume of Captain John D. Marcus from the 1960s hit "Space Trek." While  
Wayne cut a dashing figure, it was D'Ares who wowed the crowd, impressively made  
up as a green alien princess._ _

__The daring Ellery shed even her trademark buzz cut, shaving her head to the skin to  
pull off the effect. Her skin was entirely colored green; a notable feat given the little  
coverage her costume provided._ _

__Unfortunately, the party organizers failed to warn Mr. Wayne and Miss D'Ares that a  
Space Trek convention was being held at the Skyway Suites across the street. Several  
conventioneers, believing Wayne and D'Ares were heading to the wrong location,  
sought to redirect the couple, running afoul of their bodyguards._ _

__No one on site was able to give a clear account of what happened when the police  
arrived, but in the course of the melee, it seems Mr. Wayne was unable to adequately  
shield Miss D'Ares from the disruptive throng. The lady found herself dunked in the  
fountain in front of the Comorant Arms - an event which also tragically revealed the  
relatively permanent nature of the dye with which she had colored her skin._ _

__Miss D'Ares was visibly upset as she was taken home by her bodyguard. Mr. Wayne  
departed the party soon afterwards, leaving a clear impression that Ellery has lost her  
place on his dance card._ _

__-30-_ _

__(30/30 fic by Chicago, Disclaimers in "Opening Credits".)_ _

__

__************date 15***********************_ _

__=========  
30/30: FOURTH AND GOAL_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
By SKH  
(c)September 2002  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimers in "Opening Credits".  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__Dick Grayson leaped up, caught the football, and landed. Taking two steps to the side,  
he signaled with one arm for his receiver, Tim Drake, to "go long." The teen did as  
directed, and Dick pitched a perfect spiral to Tim, who caught it at dead-center of his  
chest. Taking a few steps forward, Tim hurled the football back._ _

__The petite dark-haired woman picked that very moment to step off the terrace steps  
and walk briskly across the leaf-littered rear lawn at Wayne Manor. _ _

__"Look out!" Both young men called out as they started toward the woman._ _

__Alana turned just as the football reached her, staring in surprise at the incoming missile.  
The ball struck her just above the bridge of her nose, and "disappeared," passing  
completely into her face. Alana gave a tiny shiver and fluidly morphed into a much  
taller, broader, *greener* body._ _

__As Dick and Tim slowed on their approach -- Tim mouth-agape, Dick amused -- J'onn  
extended one hand. A bulge traveled down his arm until the football emerged from the  
palm of his hand._ _

__"I apologize. I didn't mean to interrupt your recreation," said the Martian, handing the  
ball to the grinning Grayson._ _

__"God, I'm never going to get used to that!" Tim gasped, seating himself heavily on the  
fall-crisp grass._ _

__"That wouldn't have happened if you could just throw the ball straight, Tim," Dick  
scolded the teen as he spun and balanced the football on the tip of his finger._ _

__"Dick," J'onn interrupted, "may I have a word with you?"_ _

__"Sure!" Dick chirped. He nudged Tim in the butt with the toe of his shoe. "Grab us a  
couple of bottles of Sport-Ade, will ya, Tim?" he asked._ _

__"'Kay," the teen answered, getting to his feet. "Back in a few."_ _

__When Tim was out of earshot, Dick asked cheerfully, "What can I do you for, J'onn?"_ _

__At J'onn's suggestion, the two heroes, Titan and Justice Leaguer, walked across the  
leaves to the footpath. "I don't doubt that you've heard about a certain... challenge  
issued by Clark, regarding --"_ _

__"The date challenge?" Dick grinned, tossing the football up and catching it. "Yeah. Not  
from Bruce, of course. I think Wally called me up about five seconds after *he* heard  
about it." Dick tossed the ball up again, and when he caught it and looked over at his  
companion, it was Alana who now walked beside him._ _

__"Would you mind if I asked your advice?" she asked. "The purpose of this exercise is  
to... learn about one another through new, unfamiliar experiences."_ _

__Dick laughed, "Then cross out leather body suits and whips!" Chuckling, he continued, a  
little less irreverently. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. Bruce has always been so methodical by  
nature and... provincial in his attitude about sex. That *I* know about," Dick smiled._ _

__"Yes, I understand he was not supportive of your relationship with Princess Koriand'r,"  
Alana said sympathetically. "I assure you, he *has* become somewhat enlightened in  
that respect."_ _

__"It's hard to tell sometimes, but *I* think he's even, dare I say it? Happier. At least as far  
as 'happy' can be applied to Bruce." Dick held the ball still for a moment as he looked  
over at Alana. "So... it kind of seems like you don't really *need* my advice, Alana. But  
whatever I can do...."_ _

__"Just a suggestion, really," said Alana. "I know his mind, his heart, but it would be just a  
little invasive to pick apart his imagination."_ _

__"Hmm," Dick murmured thoughtfully, tossing the football again. "What's something  
unfamiliar that Bruce might gain a little appreciation of... with the right company?" He  
caught the ball sharply, looked at it, then turned, smiling, to Alana._ _

__Handing the ball to her, Dick said, "I think I have an idea."_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__"Haven't we done that?" Batman asked as he peered into the eyepiece of a microscope  
in the Batcave's evidence lab. "And, if memory serves, merely a week ago. My ears are  
still ringing from the stadium horns. I thought the idea of this... challenge... was to  
experience different venues, and different activities."_ _

__The slide in microscopic view was suddenly flooded with green, and Batman found  
himself looking at two blinking red eyes. His head snapped up; he leaned back in his  
chair, removed his cowl, and rubbed his hand over his eyes. When he opened them,  
Alana stood in front of him, smiling demurely._ _

__"Thank you for giving me your undivided attention, Bruce," she said. "This date isn't to  
*watch* another football game, it's to *participate* in one."_ _

__"You think physical combat against a gang of cerebrally underdeveloped hulks will  
bring some kind of romantic epiphany? If so, why don't you join me when I patrol  
Gotham City?" Batman remarked dryly._ _

__"The teams will be comprised of people we know... family, in fact," Alana countered,  
climbing onto Batman's lap._ _

__Bruce felt an undulating pressure in his lap, yet Alana's lovely face was pleasantly  
unaffected._ _

__"Family... who?" he asked, shifting uneasily from his growing reaction to his lover's  
method of persuasion. Her hands stroked his face softly, yet tendrils released his belt  
and crept inside his clothing._ _

__"Yours, mine, ours... Dick suggested we all have an outing and play touch football. I  
liked the concept of touch...." she cooed._ _

__"Dick suggested it?" Bruce uttered, straining to maintain his composure against the  
pleasant invasion of dozens of touches in all the right places. "Just for that, *he's* on the  
opposing team, and are you sure it can't be *tackle* football?"_ _

__Alana dipped her mouth close to Bruce's, then halted. "Funny... he said you'd say that,"  
she smiled, pressing her lips to his._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__That Saturday morning, Dick Grayson and Tim Drake arrived early to mark the lawn to  
create a playing field to the more abbreviated indoor football specifications. They made  
goal posts from PVC pipe. Alfred prepared a sandwich buffet, which he served on the  
rear terrace. Before long, members of the Justice League and the Titans arrived for the  
game._ _

__The "green shirts" consisted of J'onn, Bruce, Tim, Eel O'Brien, and Clark Kent. On the  
"red shirt" team were Dick, Kyle Rayner, Wally West, Roy Harper and Donna Troy.  
Minutes before the game began, Clark was called away for an emergency. He  
apologized briefly, then took off. The "job for Superman" didn't include touch football.  
Dinah Lance, who had tagged along with Babs and Cassandra as a spectator, took the  
field in Clark's place._ _

__The Red team won the flip of the coin and chose to receive. Quarterback Harper nailed  
a bullet pass to Dick, who pushed past Tim and vaulted over J'onn, only to be slammed  
roughly to the ground by Bruce._ _

__"*Touch*," Dick wheezed to his adopted father. "The game is *touch* football, Bruce!"_ _

__"I *did* touch you," came the taciturn reply._ _

__The team of present and former Titans returned to their huddle. Once again, Roy hit  
Dick with a dead-on shot, and once again, Dick came up with a mouthful of grass,  
compliments of his mentor-father. What was worse, he fumbled the ball, which Tim  
recovered. Tim was quickly tagged -- legitimately -- by Wally._ _

__"You were right," Bruce said, giving his filthy and bruised son a hand up. "I'm starting to  
like this game."_ _

__"Of course you know," Dick warned, spitting the dirt from his mouth, "this means war."_ _

__Bruce grinned evilly. "Bring it on."_ _

__=======_ _

__From the terrace overlooking the rear lawn, Barbara Gordon and Cassandra Cain  
watched the game._ _

__Cassandra pointed at the players. "TV football not like *this*," she observed with an  
enlightened grin. "This game lots better!"_ _

__"You got that right," Babs laughed. "We have a *real* 'super' bowl out there."_ _

__Alfred clucked his discontent. "I fear the end result will be a 'dustbowl' for my poor  
lawn._ _

__Barbara looked up at the Wayne Manor major-domo, and then reached for the laptop  
computer that was in her backpack._ _

__=======_ _

__The Greens lined up with Tim at center and Bruce quarterbacking. Bruce threw the ball  
to J'onn, who phased to near invisibility to avoid being touched by Wally. The Scarlet  
Speedster pursued the Martian at human speed, repeatedly slapping his hands through  
J'onn's transparent hips._ _

__"No fair!" Wally yelled when J'onn crossed the goal line. "I thought this was supposed to  
be a 'straight' game!"_ _

__"Heaven forbid straight!" exclaimed Eel, wrapping his hands around his ears several  
times. Wally glared the malleable man before returning to his team._ _

__Before the Green team lined up for the extra point kick, Bruce warned them, "I believe  
all bets are off now. Be prepared for anything."_ _

__Anything was an accurate assessment. Donna Troy flew up to deflect the Green team's  
field goal. Kyle caught the kick return, sealed himself in an invulnerable green bubble  
and ran the ball back for a touchdown. Eel stretched out wider than the goalposts to  
block the Red's extra point attempt. Dinah caught the next kick return for the Greens  
and was legitimately tagged by Roy, who knew she'd kill him if he was any rougher  
than that. _ _

__On the Green's first down, immediately after the snap, Bruce elected to run the ball.  
J'onn instantly shape-shifted, creating the illusion of a second Bruce -- complete with a  
second football. Dick chose the real Bruce, whom he'd been watching all along, and  
directed Kyle to cover J'onn/Bruce. Dick dove for Bruce, and Tim dove for Dick. Kyle  
snared J'onn/Bruce in a green energy bubble and Eel stretched out like a bed sheet to  
completely envelope Kyle. As Dick, Bruce, and Tim wrestled on the ground, Dinah  
scooped up the fumbled ball and was immediately slammed by Donna. The ball shot  
out like a greased pigskin. J'onn phased below ground and surfaced to retrieve the ball.  
He flew to the goal line and was halted by a small tornado, created by Wally running in  
circles at super-speed._ _

__An ear-piercing whistle split the air in repeated bursts. All the players froze, and turned  
toward the sound._ _

__Alfred Pennyworth stepped off the lower patio onto the lawn, blowing on a coach's  
whistle until his face turned red. He spat the noisemaker out as he marched onto the  
playing field._ _

__"This game is over now. I declare it a draw. Kindly remove yourselves from what's left  
of the lawn and report to table of refreshments on the terrace."_ _

__Tim looked at Bruce. "Uh-oh. Game called on account of Alfred," he winced._ _

__The teams of heroes exited the grass like contrite children. Their subdued attitude  
vanished as they fell on Alfred's buffet with gusto._ _

__Bruce surveyed the "field," noting the extent of the damage. Skid and scuffmarks,  
divots, gouges, and a deep "doughnut" where Wally had run in circles had turned the  
lawn into a veritable pig wallow. He looked up at his companions, who were smiling,  
laughing, and recounting the highlights of the game. J'onn stood at the foot of the  
terrace steps, waiting for him._ _

__// "I believe you enjoyed this." // J'onn's thoughts tickled Bruce's mind, earning a  
smile from the master of Wayne Manor._ _

__The Martian's eyes glanced up, followed by Bruce's. A dark speck in the sky grew  
larger, until Superman landed, placing two pallets of new sod on the ground next to the  
football field. Brushing dirt from his hands, he approached his teammates._ _

__"Oracle said you'd need that to preserve domestic tranquility," he smiled._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__Kyle lounged in a deck chair, eating a sandwich, and carefully bull-dozed the damaged  
turf from the lawn with his power ring. Alfred supervised, directing him around the  
sprinkler system. Superman laid down the new sod, and in a matter of minutes, the  
lawn was restored._ _

__"I'm glad he's doing that," said Dick, as he and Barbara ate lunch together. "I was sure  
Tim and I were going to get stuck with the job of resodding the yard."_ _

__"Well, this way you get to preserve your strength, so you can demonstrate some of that  
'backfield in motion' stuff to me... in private," Babs winked, eliciting a mile-wide grin  
from the Former Boy Wonder._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__Afternoon gave way to evening, then to night, and the work it brought. In the wee,  
small hours, Bruce finally crept into bed. Alana, naked, warm, and waiting, snuggled  
next to him._ _

__Wrapping his arms around her, Bruce asked, "Did you learn anything of interest  
today?"_ _

__// "About you? I learn more with every heartbeat," // came the mental reply.  
Verbally, Alana answered, "You are very competitive, and even though you made your  
son pay for suggesting our date, you enjoyed the recreation."_ _

__Bruce lightly stroked Alana's cheek, drawing the touch down to thumb an erect nipple.  
"You were clever with your play," he said._ _

__// "I'm *always* clever with my play." // J'onn's affirmation flooded Bruce's mind.  
Alana's mouth descended on his as dozens of other mouths and hands proved J'onn's  
point._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To be continued...._ _

__**********date 16***************_ _

__Empty Orchestra  
By StarStorm (w/ help from nw's chick)_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: G_ _

__**  
A quick tour of the JLA Watchtower had turned into a training room brawl between  
Young Justice and the few League members that were in attendance. After a few  
minutes of fighting - actually they were doing more laughing than scrapping- everyone  
called a draw and started to head to the teleporter._ _

__Flash saw Superboy nudge Impulse as they walked past the Monitor Womb, but Bart  
shook his head and moved to the other side of the group. The Teen of Steel started  
pestering the little ghost girl... Secret?... Wally couldn't remember... but whatever it  
was he wanted, she wouldn't do it either._ _

__They were almost passed the big room, Superboy was bothering Lobo now, when the  
team's newly returned archer snatched the paper Kon was holding and, growling;  
"scared of your own shadow. He's JLA for Pete's sake, he won't hurt anyone," marched  
through the door._ _

__Flash stopped the group and waited for the girl to come out, glancing at Robin with a  
silent question. The Teen Wonder shrugged, "No idea."_ _

__Head held high, studiously ignoring everyone's stares, Arrowette exited the Monitor  
Womb a moment later, and rejoined her team. As they started walking again, Flash  
could hear Young Justice muttering to themselves, excluding Robin and the blonde. _ _

__The Junior Justice League started teleporting down to Earth, until, by Wally's design,  
Impulse was the only one left. As the younger speedster stepped onto the pad, Flash  
asked casually, "What was Superboy bugging you about?"_ _

__"HewantedmetogiveourdatethingstoManhunterforhimandBatmanbutIsaidno."_ _

__"Date things?" Flash stalled, "for J'onn and *who?*"_ _

__Impulse rolled his eyes behind his goggles, bouncing from foot to foot. "BATMAN," he  
half-yelled. "CanIgonow?"_ _

__Wally forced a laugh, "Batman dating. That's funny."_ _

__"Youdon'thavetokeepitsecret," Bart answered consolingly. "Arsenaltoldme.  
CanIgonow?"_ _

__The Scarlet Speedster made a note to kill Roy Harper then and there. Either that, or cut  
out the man's tongue. Trying to preserve some of Batman's rep - J'onn wasn't worried  
about intimidating the kids - Wally growled, "Don't believe everything Roy says Imp. I  
told you before you joined the Titans that that man lies like a rug."_ _

__Impulse shrugged. Clearly, truth or not, he wasn't interested. Flash hit the teleport  
button and sent his erstwhile protégé planetside, then went to find a place to hide until  
the end of the shift._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__Later that afternoon, Manhunter met Superman in the conference room. "Kal, do you  
have a moment?"_ _

__"Anything to get out of this paperwork," the Man of Steel answered. "What's up?"_ _

__"I haven't told Bruce yet," J'onn stated, "but it appears word of the bet, and our  
relationship, has gotten out to Young Justice."_ _

__"Oh good God," Kal groaned. "How'd that happen?"_ _

__"I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count."_ _

__"Obviously Robin didn't say anything. I doubt that Nightwing or Oracle would. That  
leaves..." He thought for a moment. "Diana, Wally... or someone from the Titans. Kyle,  
Eel and Orin don't have anything to do with the kids."_ _

__"According to Wallace, Roy told Impulse."_ _

__"And it got around to the rest of the team." Another groan, "I do not want to be in Tim's  
boots. It might not be his fault, but Bruce'll take it out on him anyway, for not putting a  
stop to the rumors." _ _

__Red eyes flashed. "I'll deal with the Bat. I thought I should give you a head's up, though,  
just in case." Then J'onn grinned mischievously, reaching into his cape. "On the bright  
side, here's another chapter for the book; `Dating Tips from the Mouths of Babes.'"_ _

__Kal raised an eyebrow, "Oh really? Anything interesting?"_ _

__"Someone has a very strange idea of what two people should do on a date." J'onn  
handed over a few sheets of paper._ _

__Scanning one, the Kryptonian answered, "Judging from the handwriting, I'd say it's  
Lobo." He winced, "I don't even want to know if that's anatomically possible."_ _

__"For myself or Plasticman perhaps," J'onn replied, knowing exactly what the other man  
was referring to._ _

__A withering look. "I said I *didn't* want to know."_ _

__"My apologies."_ _

__Another look, this time mixed with suspicion, then Kal turned the page. "Hmm, drive in  
movie. Hard to find one of those around anymore."_ _

__"There are a few, if you know where to look."_ _

__"I'll take your word for it. I was never into public sex." Superman continued reading. He  
didn't need to see the mock outraged expression on Manhunter's face to enjoy it. "Go to  
a rock concert...share fries and ice cream sodas at the mall...push each other on the  
swings at a playground." _ _

__Another page, and sadness crept into the younger man's voice. "Dinner and dancing on  
the beach, watching the sun go down. Lie on the sand and make up new stories for the  
constellations, or retell old ones."_ _

__Puzzled by what he was sensing, J'onn reached out, "Kal?"_ _

__Superman sighed. "It's Kon's suggestion. He and Tana must have..."_ _

__With the soft words, understanding blossomed. "Oh."_ _

__Shaking it off, Kal continued, "A carnival. Go-cart racing...I can see Bruce getting leg  
cramps. Crafts fair - never thought of that one. Wine tasting weekend... that'll never  
happen."_ _

__Morphing into a ravishing redhead, J'onn smiled sexily. "Oh, I don't know, I can be  
*very* persuasive."_ _

__"That's too much info J'onn. Waay too much info."_ _

__Something danced across the edge of J'onn consciousness, but he didn't pursue it._ _

__"Ah-ha! That's definitely one I can't see you getting Bruce to do, no matter how much  
you pout at him!"_ _

__"And just what would that be?"_ _

__Kal turned to J'onn with a purely evil look. "Karaoke."_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__Comfortably settled in Monitor Womb, Diana of Themyscira looked up from her mug  
of hot chocolate to see J'onn J'onzz materialize in the teleportation tube._ _

__The Martian Manhunter entered the room a few minutes and settled heavily into a seat  
above the ambassador. "J'onn, what's the matter?" she asked._ _

__"I'm beginning to wonder if this bet is worth winning," he answered with a sigh,  
rubbing his temples._ _

__"Did something go wrong?"_ _

__"You could say that."_ _

__"Do you want to talk about it?" Diana's voice grew more concerned as she walked up  
the stairs towards him._ _

__"The first part of the evening was fine," J'onn shifted to look at her. "We had dinner at a  
new steakhouse in Keystone, and then we went to a bar."_ _

__"A bar?" A slender, black eyebrow rose in surprise. "I thought Bruce was a teetotaler?"_ _

__J'onn shook his head. "He only drank club soda. But that's not the half of it."_ _

__The eyebrow arched a little higher, but Diana waited until J'onn was ready._ _

__"I would never have chosen the date if I'd've known," the Last Son of Mars said finally.  
"Someone should have warned me."_ _

__"About what J'onn?"_ _

__"Have you ever heard Batman sing?"_ _

__She blinked, "No."_ _

__"It's not something I'd inflict on my worst enemy," he shuddered._ _

__Understanding dawned on the Amazon Princess and her jaw dropped. "You sang  
karaoke?"_ _

__"I didn't. We were thrown out before I had a chance."_ _

__"You're kidding!"_ _

__J'onn slowly shook his head again. "Bruce got up onto the stage, and let's just say, he  
did *not* Survive."_ _

__To be continued..._ _

__*********date 17***************_ _

__30/30 - Divides  
by Darklady and Chicago_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: G_ _

__Plasticman morphed into a giant Barcolounger as Green Lantern shut off the  
Watchtower Alarm. Another disaster averted for the Earth - another long day for it's  
champions. Even Kal-El sighed a bit as he pulled out his glasses and reached for his  
laptop._ _

__"Not going home?" Kyle Rayner asked as he ringed over a cup of coffee. Normally he  
would have asked Wally to run out for Radu's, but after the day they just had? Even a  
Speedsters feet had their limits._ _

__Wallace West's were currently bootless and resting on a pillow. Kyle took that as a hint  
that his fellow JLA member wouldn't be moving any time soon._ _

__"Have to write this up." Clark settled himself feet-up on one of the Observation Lounge  
sofas. "Then finish that romance column."_ _

__"Right. I remember." Kyle's voice held the knowing sympathy of someone in the same  
business. "Miss Faithful ran off with that fencing champion." He ringed up his own  
couch - then let it flicker out and opted for the real thing. The way his concentration felt,  
the ring construct would likely vanish and dump him onto the floor. "White stuck you  
with covering for her."_ _

__"Ah, the burdens of duty."_ _

__Even the Batman's tone was less snarky then usual. Possibly friendship. More likely  
plain exhaustion. Although? Kyle considered the point. He hadn't noticed hard missions  
making the Caped Critic any more amiable in the past. _ _

__"I do so regret I shan't be able to contribute to your efforts *this* time."_ _

__Now that - Kyle smiled - was more the Bat. He hadn't exactly *said* anything when  
one of his recent 'dates' had ended up in the Daily Planet's lifestyle section under the  
headline "Don't Try This At Home" But then? Kyle deliberately averted his eyes as Plas  
tried to stretch out an upholstered arm in Wonder Woman's direction. He hadn't *had*  
to. One didn't qualify for the JLA by being *completely* obtuse. However much some  
of the members might *try* for that image._ _

__"Why not?" Clark's blue eyes were mischief-bright over his glasses._ _

__Kyle shuddered. And the Guardian's thought *he* was 'The Man Without Fear"?_ _

__Batman moved into a pool of shadow. One that - no doubt co- incidentally - held  
another lounge chair. "As it is now 11:30 in Gotham?" A lifting eyebrow showed  
thought the eye hole of the grey-black cowl. "Hardly time for a date."_ _

__"Perhaps." The Martian Manhunter drifted in from his task of securing the space-bay  
doors. "But we might at least *check* if any of today's suggestions would work."_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__Gladys Beauregard had worked at the Peak Diner for 27 years, sharing the overnight  
shift first with the wonderfully surly Oscar Ramirez, God rest his soul, and then with  
the taciturn Betsy Windflyer, who shocked everyone when she fell in love with one of  
the long distance truck drivers who came through twice a week and one day hung her  
apron on a hook and hopped into his rig to join his life on the road. Nowadays, the 9  
pm-5 am shift belonged to her and Juan Frederickson, old man Frederickson's pup by  
the mysterious Luisa Francisca Cortez._ _

__Everyone agreed that Juan was a damned fine short order cook, but he was spooky.  
Everyone but Gladys. Gladys knew better. He wasn't spooky; he was spooked._ _

__Haunted._ _

__It had unnerved Gladys at first, sharing a shift with the quiet half-breed. Unnerved her  
more when the first ghosts started coming through, making their confused way to the  
other side with a final stop on the continental divide for a slice of pie or a cup of coffee._ _

__After a while, though, she got used to it, got to even like it. The spooks were drawn by  
Juan, but they were good to Gladys, brought out the mother in her. It made her feel  
good, just by being on this overnight shift in this particular place, she could give the  
recently departed a final taste of living before they resigned themselves to their dying._ _

__They came early this night, a couple looking to be in their late 30s. Married, to judge by  
the way they moved together, with a taste of long familiarity. Gladys swallowed a bit  
of sadness. Young ones were always hard to see over, and this pair were definitely  
spooks. They had walked in from the dark night, no glare of headlights preceding the  
little tinkle of the bell that marked their entrance. Juan's eyes had flashed to the door  
with the exact expression that always accompanied the arrival of the dead._ _

__Gladys gave them a moment to choose a booth, trying to suss out what kind of ghosts  
these were. They had a certain solidity to them that bespoke an unawareness of their  
death, and she wondered what sudden event had taken them from the world.  
Something unexpected, to be sure, and as yet unrealized, to judge by the confident way  
the man turned over the two coffee cups on the table in the universal signal for coffee.  
The ghosts who suspected they were dead were always more tentative, lost-looking._ _

__Gladys picked up her coffee pot and sashayed to the table, her brightest grin on her  
face. "Evenin', folks," she greeted pleasantly, filling their cups. "Menus are just there  
and the specials tonight are chicken fried steak and chili con carne." She studied the  
couple surreptitiously, taking in their athletic builds and mountain hiker clothing. "'less  
you folks are vegetarian. Then I can get Juan to whip up something salad like or some  
omelettes."_ _

__A look passed between the man and woman, smiles on both their faces. It was the man  
who looked up to answer Gladys. "Oh, we're not really up for dinner. Maybe just  
some pie?"_ _

__Gladys set the coffee pot on the table and pulled out her order pad, shifting her weight  
to one hip as she rattled off the options. "We've got pumpkin, apple, cherry, blueberry,  
peach, rhubarb, banana cream, lemon-"_ _

__"Wow," the woman interrupted, giving Gladys a marveling look. "How do you  
remember so many?"_ _

__"Years of practice," Gladys replied. "''Course, I always have to say them in the same  
order or I'll forget some."_ _

__The woman smiled, glancing at the man across from her. "Well, I haven't had rhubarb  
pie in ages."_ _

__"Is it good?" the man asked._ _

__"Bruce!" The woman sounded surprised. "You've never had rhubarb pie?"_ _

__The man - Bruce - shrugged. "Not yet." He turned back to Gladys with a warm smile.  
"Guess that'll change tonight."_ _

__"Two slices of rhubarb pie, then," Gladys acknowledged. "A la mode?"_ _

__"Please," the woman decided, and Bruce nodded._ _

__"You got it," Gladys said, picking up her coffee pot and returning to her station by the  
kitchen. The smile on her face disappeared when she was away from the view of her  
customers, and as she handed the order slip back to Juan, she sighed. "So sad."_ _

__Juan did not reply, did not even accept the order slip from her fingers. Instead he  
continued to stare at the couple._ _

__"Juan?" Gladys turned to follow his gaze, watching as the woman rose and crossed to  
the juke box sitting silently against the wall. She began flipping through selections, and  
after a moment, Bruce left the booth and joined her, wrapping his arms around her  
from behind and resting his head on her shoulder as they went through the selections  
together._ _

__Gladys turned away again, stung by the idea of young lovers taken from life to soon.  
"Juan, they want some rhubarb pie," she said with a roughened voice, shaking the order  
slip at him._ _

__This time Juan looked at her and took the order slip. "They're not ghosts," he said  
succinctly._ _

__Gladys started. "Juan, of course they are. They didn't come in a car, they don't look  
like they've been out camping. They don't have any gear."_ _

__Juan shook his head firmly. "Not ghosts. Something else." Then he turned and  
retreated to the walk in cooler._ _

__There was a hiss and crackle in the air as the jukebox needle found the groove of a 45.  
Gladys turned in time to see Bruce and his wife? girlfriend? face each other and wrap  
their arms around one another, his hands at her waist, hers on his shoulders. And then  
the music started, the first bars of "Unchained Melody" filling the small diner._ _

__Gladys felt her eyes fill with unexpected tears, and she turned away, blinking fiercely.  
No one played that song here anymore. They didn't take it off the juke box, but  
everyone knew better. All the regulars, anyone who might ever stop at the Peak Diner  
on their way from coast to coast - everyone left it alone. Only the spooks might play it,  
but most ghosts never looked twice at the juke box._ _

__Everyone here knew about the night shortly after Juan Frederickson began working at  
the Peak Diner, when it seemed the world was ending but there was nothing to do but  
carry on. How on that night - right about this time, Gladys remembered suddenly - the  
little bell above the door had tinkled and a real live - well, dead - superhero walked  
through the door._ _

__Everyone who had occasion to frequent the Peak Diner knew about the night that the  
ghost of Barry Allen came in and danced with the ghost of some sweetheart to  
"Unchained Melody."_ _

__Just exactly the way that this "Bruce" and his lady friend were dancing now._ _

__A ping came from the microwave, and Gladys watched as Juan removed plates and  
scooped ice cream onto the two pieces of pie. When he handed the plates across to her,  
his eyes were again riveted by the still dancing couple. _ _

__Gladys took the plates and turned, pausing for a moment as the song wound down.  
Bruce and the woman had settled into what was more a full body hug than a dance  
pose, swaying together silently to the music. The woman's blonde head rested on  
Bruce's shoulder, her eyes staring out unseeingly, the hint of tears in them evident even  
where Gladys stood. The startling sea-green of her eyes was a shade that only came  
with the gloss of unshed tears._ _

__Bruce for his part was resting his cheek on top of his woman's head, turning his face as  
the song ended to press a gentle kiss to the blonde hair. Gladys bustled to their table,  
feeling strangely voyeuristic._ _

__Behind her, she heard Bruce murmur, "I love you, Jenn."_ _

__The reply was a gasping sort of chuckle. "You better, Bruce."_ _

__His tone came back solemnly. "Always." Then more lightly. "Unless this rhubarb pie is  
not all you make it out to be."_ _

__Gladys stepped back from the table as the couple approached. "There you are, folks.  
Enjoy."_ _

__"We will," Jenn promised, shooting an amused glance at Bruce._ _

__Gladys retreated again, returning to the table twice to refill coffee and to present the  
check. The check was a formality, really - most spooks couldn't pay. It was often the  
moment that they realized they were no longer of the world, the moment when they  
would dissipate into the night._ _

__But Juan had said these weren't ghosts..._ _

__Twenty-five minutes after they arrived, Jenn and Bruce left the way they came -  
through the door. They didn't stop to pay their check. No car started up outside; the  
darkness beyond the light of the parking lot merely swallowed them whole. Spooks,  
Gladys was certain._ _

__Except..._ _

__She went to bus their table, still saddened by such a young couple so clearly in love  
having lost their lives. _ _

__They hadn't forgotten to pay their bill._ _

__Not at all._ _

__Lined up in a neat row were five stacks of $100 bills, 10 to a stack. "Juan!" Gladys called,  
reaching out with trembling fingers._ _

__Juan was at her side in an instant. "Madre de dios!" he exclaimed, staring at the green.  
$5000. Enough money in this neck of the woods to cover both their rents for a year._ _

__Beside the row of bills, there was a note written on a napkin. Gladys picked it up,  
reading the words. "The pie was excellent, thank you. And thank you for keeping that  
song on the juke box. If you could play it once in a while - for Barry, and for us - it  
would make the ghosts happy."_ _

__Nothing else. No clue who "Bruce" and "Jenn" might be. Just another ghost story for  
the Peak Diner, the eatery at the edge of the continental divide._ _

__To be continued..._ _

__************date 18****************************_ _

__Building  
by Hotspur_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: somewhere between R and NC-17_ _

__"Just a couple more, Mr. Wayne. If we can just get you handing the keys to Ms. Kostas  
again-"_ _

__Bruce Wayne smiled charmingly as he presented the Elena Kostas with the keys to the  
Dodge Ram parked behind him. Elena's hand hovered in mid-air, as if caught in the  
motion of accepting the keys, and the click and whir of cameras began again. Through  
her fixed smile, Bruce could hear her muttering, "Please say we don't have to do this a  
ninth time."_ _

__"All right, all right," Bruce said, stepping back from Elena and nodding to the various  
representatives of the press. "We've got a house to build here and taking pictures of  
the crew chief isn't helping that get done." His smile grew a little more suggestive.  
"Even if she is remarkably photogenic."_ _

__Elena was already at the back of the truck, helping her volunteer crew slide 2 by 4s out  
of the back. "Thanks for the publicity and the donation, Mr. Wayne, but we do have  
work to do. Why don't you go and-"_ _

__"Oh, don't chase me off, Ms. Kostas. I'm here to help."_ _

__Elena paused, studying the billionaire before her. He was wearing stiff workman's  
jeans, obviously being worn for the first time. A crisp white t-shirt was visible through  
the open top button of his bright red and black flannel shirt. Unscuffed buff-colored  
boots covered his feet. She considered for a moment, then returned to dragging  
lumber out of the truck. "Okay, Mr. Wayne. Let's see what you can do."_ _

__As she hefted some wood onto her shoulder, she glimpsed him rummaging in the cab  
of the truck, reaching for something across the seat and bending enough to highlight  
the curve of his ass. Not bad for a rich boy, she decided, striding to the foundation with  
her load and settling it down easily._ _

__"Elena, what are we gonna do with Mr. Playboy? He's just gonna get in our way."_ _

__Elena glanced at George, sympathizing with the local crew chief. "I'll worry about our  
benefactor," she decreed. "You just get the team started on framing up the walls."_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__By afternoon, the fall chill had burned out of the air. Elena had stripped off the top of  
her coveralls and tied the sleeves around her waist as she helped secure the roof joists.  
It was still hot, though, with the sun blazing down and the effort of their work. She  
mopped her hand across her brow as she waited for the next framed section to come  
up._ _

__She used the moment's break to see how her billionaire was faring. She had been  
impressed when he had opted to stay through lunch and continue working; she initially  
thought he would be ready to return to his office after a few hours' work. And he had  
proven fairly competent with a saw and with a hammer - enough that he didn't require  
constant supervision._ _

__Of course, Elena didn't mind watching a little more than was strictly necessary. The  
jeans were beginning to get grungy, breaking at the knees and shaping themselves to  
the curves of Mr. Wayne's backside. His flannel had been abandoned as the day had  
warmed, and the white t-shirt?_ _

__Well, it was no longer crisp. The collar was stretched from being pulled up to mop at  
Wayne's sweaty face, and streaks of dust and dirt marred its whiteness. More than  
that, though - the unexpected afternoon heat had them all sweating profusely. Bruce  
Wayne's t-shirt was soaked, the wet fabric sticking to his chest and back, presenting  
both well muscled surfaces in detailed relief. As Elena watched, Wayne stood and  
stretched, accepting a water bottle from one of the other volunteers and leaning back to  
take a large swallow. The motion caused the t-shirt to cling more thoroughly to his  
upper body, revealing perfectly sculpted abs._ _

__"Heads up!"_ _

__Elena dragged her eyes away from the appealing sights to accept the roof section that  
was being handed up. Atop the opposite wall, Rita gave her a grin and a raised  
eyebrow, mouthing the word, "Fine."_ _

__Elena could not disagree._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__Elena plunged her entire head into the five gallon bucket of water, gasping and  
grinning as she stood back up and flung water from her short hair. She accepted a  
damply grubby towel that Dmitri handed her. "Whoo!" she shouted, drying her face  
and scrubbing the towel over her hair. "Now that's what I call a good day's work," she  
remarked, admiring the fully framed house in front of her, now roofed and half-clad in  
insulation boards._ _

__"You got that right," George agreed, cracking a beer and handing it over to her. "Hey,  
Wayne! Want one?"_ _

__Bruce Wayne shook his head and hopped onto the tailgate of the pickup, claiming a  
bottle of water. "I'll stick with water, thanks." He took a swig, his gaze turned toward  
the soon-to-be home he'd helped build. "You already know who's going to live here?"  
he asked._ _

__Elena nodded. "Family - grandma and ma and three kids. Real sharp little guys, too.  
Good in school, oldest one is a huge football fan, baby's just starting kindergarten."_ _

__Bruce nodded. "It's good to see this part of the city coming back."_ _

__Elena regarded him for a minute. "Y'know, Wayne? You're not a bad guy."_ _

__He raised an eyebrow at her. "Usually I hear slightly less ambivalent remarks from  
people whose organizations have just received a million dollar grant from the Wayne  
Foundation."_ _

__Elena shrugged. "Well, there's a difference between being a swell donor and not a bad  
guy." She raised her beer in a silent toast and turned to walk back to the crew gathered  
around boxes of pizza. "By the way," she tossed over her shoulder, "nice tool belt."_ _

__Unobserved by anyone, Bruce Wayne brushed his fingers over the mentioned tool belt  
and grinned._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__The light was fading in the west, and the stars were coming out. Seventeen volunteers  
and three paid crew coordinators had headed for home. In the bed of a one ton pick-  
up, Bruce Wayne sighed wistfully. "I should get ready for patrol."_ _

__Beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his body, Elena Kostas said, "I liked this."_ _

__"Oh?"_ _

__"Yeah." She rolled onto her side, turning her gaze from the emerging stars to the  
billionaire lying beside her. "It is good work. And it's nice to see you flex some muscle  
in the daytime."_ _

__"Well, you weren't looking so bad yourself."_ _

__Elena leaned closer, breathing in the musky smell of him. "No?"_ _

__He reached a hand to touch her sleeve. "Who knew anyone could make coveralls look  
good?"_ _

__She trailed tickling fingers down his stomach. "I've been admiring your six-pack all  
day."_ _

__He shivered a little, bringing his hand up her arm to brush her cheek. "And here I  
thought you were just impressed with how well I handled a saw."_ _

__Her hand moved lower, rubbing across his tool belt and sending it skittering across to  
loop watch-like around Bruce's wrist. She smiled as Ace's absence gave her access to a  
growing bulge in the front of Bruce's jeans. "I've always liked the way you handle  
tools," she breathed, leaning in to kiss the side of his neck._ _

__He pulled her face toward him, their kiss salty and urgent under the night sky. Before  
he released her she had his jeans unbuttoned to the fifth button. He gasped slightly.  
"How-?"_ _

__"Very dexterous fingers," she answered, slipping said fingers under the waistband of his  
boxers. Her coveralls were melting away as he watched._ _

__"Elena, what if-?"_ _

__She sucked lightly on the side of his neck, slipping her body half over his. Through the  
layers of his t-shirt and hers, he felt her breasts cushion against his chest as her fingers  
teased over his cock. "There's an 8 foot security fence around the site," she pointed out._ _

__"But-ooh."_ _

__She grinned, her shirt disappearing as she sat up, straddling him. He stared at her small  
breasts, nipples puckering in the evening cool, standing pertly over a decently muscled  
chest. He watched her upper arm flex as she grasped his cock, giving it a pull and  
forcing a hissing breath between his teeth. _ _

__"God. Elena-"_ _

__She pushed his t-shirt up and leaned down to lap at his chest, her tongue warm and  
slightly rough in contrast to the kiss of the autumn air. He didn't object as she urged  
his shoulders up, peeled the shirts from his body. He didn't complain when she  
stripped away his jeans, pausing to suck on his inner calves as she untied his boots.  
And when the warm wetness between her legs settled over his stiff cock? He only  
squirmed and shifted until he was able to thrust into her willing body._ _

__And as Elena writhed above him then rolled him so he was on top with her ankles  
around his neck, he fervently hoped Oracle wasn't watching the cameras he'd ordered  
her to install at the construction site._ _

__To be continued..._ _

__*********date 19******************_ _

__30/30 - Workout  
by Darklady and Chicago_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: PG_ _

__"What about Gardner's suggestion?" As J'onn read, one line on Batman's monitor  
screen glowed green. "A class at a Fitness Club is a great place to take girls."_ _

__"I'm sure he means to *pick up* girls." Batman rapidly scrolled down the list. "Guy  
Gardner *not* being a figure I think of when I hear the word 'romantic'."_ _

__J'onn brought the disputed text back up. "Have you done it?"_ _

__The cowled man automatically shot off the 'excuse me' look - only by last-minute effort  
managing to soften it to the milder 'What?' This might be an exercise in new  
experiences, but Bruce was fairly certain that being exiled to his own sofa was neither  
romantic not an experience he desired._ _

__The disputed line again appeared - this time in bold. "I asked if you had *tried* it?"_ _

__"I belong to the Gotham Athletic Club." Batman wasn't sure where J'onn was going -  
but he hadn't become tactician of he JLA without learning a certain caution around  
traps. Which this most evidently was. Unfortunately - recognizing a trap was not the  
same as knowing how to diffuse it. "Sometimes Ollie and I used play racquetball." There  
\- Batman thought. An unenticing image if ever there was one. He risked a glance at  
J'onn._ _

__Who was... the hair rose at the nape of Batman's neck... smiling._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__"Jasmina darling!" an effusive male voice called, followed an instant later by the  
appearance of a tall, well built, olive skinned man with a good tan and perfect teeth. He  
mounted the final stairs up to the observation level of the gym and met Jasmina del  
Marte with air kisses that she returned._ _

__"What have you been up to, you naughty thing?" the man scolded. "Canceling  
appointments, running around with ..." His voice trailed off as he saw Jasmina's  
companion, who extended his hand._ _

__"Bruce Wayne," he introduced himself._ _

__"I see," the first man commented with a hint of disdain before returning his attention to  
Jasmina. "Well, I see you're still attached, silly girl. At least you've been keeping your  
figure, but I do think you've been skimping on your glute exercises."_ _

__"Oh, I don't think so," Bruce remarked, an undercurrent of danger lurking beneath the  
mild tone._ _

__"Bruce," Jasmina chided. "This is Raoul, my personal trainer. Raoul, be nice to Bruce."_ _

__Raoul sniffed in a vaguely affronted fashion. "Come along, then, *Bruce.*" His eyes  
scanned Bruce's body critically. "We'll see if you can keep up with Jasmina's regimen."_ _

__Raoul turned without further comment, making a vague beckoning gesture toward  
Jasmina. "Let's get going, girlfriend."_ _

__Jasmina gave Bruce a warning look, which was answered by something very close to a  
Bat glare. She took his hand and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Be good," she ordered,  
then led him down to the gym floor._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__"Let me take some of the weight-"_ _

__"That won't be necessary," Bruce stated brusquely, settling under the chest press._ _

__Raoul raised his hands. "You want to kill yourself, it's all good."_ _

__"Bruce-" Jasmina stopped, recognizing the futility of dissuading Bruce from his ego-  
bruised display. She wasn't sure how Raoul had managed to get beneath the "Brucie"  
skin, but as Bruce settled on the nautilus bench, it was clear that he was going to put on  
a show of strength._ _

__She shook her head and returned to her pilates, pausing when Raoul's coaching  
suddenly trailed off. "Ay, mama," he murmured softly, and Jasmina followed his gaze._ _

__Bruce was doing reps at a steady pace, sweat beginning to show on his body and stick  
his t-shirt to his chest. The flex of his pecs was obvious, and the sculpted quality of his  
body was not lost on Raoul._ _

__"Raoul," she complained, with a pout. "Mine."_ _

__"I got no problem with seconds," Raoul answered with a hint of a leer. "I see why you  
keep him around though."_ _

__"Mine and straight," Jasmina said pointedly._ _

__Raoul glanced down at her. "He just hasn't met the right man."_ _

__"Raoul-"_ _

__But she could tell it was already too late._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__"So if you're ever in Rio, look me up." Raoul held Bruce's handshake a moment too  
long, met his eyes a little too meaningfully. Jasmina could feel Bruce mentally  
squirming._ _

__"I'll do that," he lied blandly, his free hand clenching Jasmina's as his mind projected a  
firm "let's go" message._ _

__"I'll see you next month, Raoul," Jasmina stated, pulling Bruce toward the door and  
forcing Raoul to release Bruce's hand._ _

__"Mmm-hmm. I'll see you both then. Ta!"_ _

__Raoul barely had time for a finger waggling wave before Bruce had Jasmina out in the  
street and walking briskly away from the gym. "That was AWFUL," he complained._ _

__Jasmina gave him a sideways look. "I dunno. I'm glad my trainer thinks you're cute.  
He has good taste."_ _

__"He's a vapid... HIMBO!"_ _

__"Bruce!" Jasmina sounded shocked. "Where on earth did you pick up *that* word?"_ _

__Her flippancy earned a glower from her lover._ _

__"Oh, poor Bruce," she soothed, resting her fingers on his shoulders. "You're so tense!"_ _

__"You're surprised? Let's get back to Gotham so I can get to work."_ _

__"It's barely noon, Bruce."_ _

__"I've got cases open," he muttered, stalking down the street and only pausing when he  
realized Jasmina had stopped steps behind. "What?" he snapped._ _

__She crossed her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow._ _

__He sighed. "I'm sorry. I just -" He shuddered._ _

__She shook her head. "I think what you need right now is not work. I think what you  
need is a nice hotel and a massage."_ _

__He gave her a suspicious look that provoked a laugh from her._ _

__"No, no, I won't make you fend off another of Jasmina's circle." She projected an image  
into his mind of a auburn haired beauty. "You'll like Elaine. She's an excellent  
masseuse."_ _

__Bruce relented, once more clasping Jasmina's hand and directing their steps toward the  
curb to hail a taxi. "Okay," he conceded. "When we get back to Gotham."_ _

__To be continued..._ _

__***********date 19a*******************_ _

__30/30 - Hot Oil  
By ManEaterLad_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: NC-17_ _

__Elaine straddled Bruce's back, her slender fingers moving over his skin in lazy circles.  
The massage oil made Bruce's skin glisten in the faint light from the streets. She traced  
the glittering trail of his spine, from the nape of his neck to just above his buttocks. He  
shifted beneath her and Elaine smiled. She could feel Bruce's buttocks clenching and  
unclenching beneath her. Her fingers traced lazy circles on the small of his back and  
Bruce sighed._ _

__A moment later he gave a little cry as Elaine poured warm oil all over his back. He  
twisted, looked over his shoulder at the grinning face of his companion. The scent of  
warm oil filled his nostrils. Elaine's fingernails were scraping his skin, tracing the  
alphabet on his flesh. He could feel the course hair of her pussy as she leaned forward  
and kissed his face. Her breasts were soft weights pressing into his back. Bruce could  
feel her nipples hardening._ _

__She was grinding a little, into him, her mane of auburn hair spilling around her head.  
Her hands were skittering over his ribs and Bruce fought the urge to giggle as she  
found his ticklish spots with unerring accuracy. "Turn over, Bruce." Her voice was soft,  
throaty. _ _

__He felt her rising to her knees, and Bruce rolled slowly onto his back. "This oil is going  
to stain the sheets," he said, amused. Elaine was kneeling over him now, a shadowclad  
figure, silhouetted by the light from the balcony. _ _

__He watched as she settled back, resting her buttocks on his upper thighs. His cock,  
rising and insistent, jutted up before her legs. She touched it with her hand, gripping  
the base and squeezing for a moment. He grunted and she released him and bent over  
to retrieve the bottle of oil. In one smooth motion, Elaine lifted the bottle and poured  
its contents over herself. Bruce stared, entranced, as Elaine slid her hands over her own  
flesh._ _

__Her hands were on his thighs then, nails tickling him. She moved back a little more,  
then leaned forward. The tip of her stiff nipple brushed Bruce's erection. He shivered  
and made to sit up, but she shook her head and shoved him back down. Gyrating,  
Elaine moved forward and back, her full breasts scraping Bruce's aching hard-on. He  
squirmed beneath her._ _

__She was on her hands and knees now, above him, bending forward to crush his cock  
between the valley of her breasts. He reached for her, touched her hair and was  
rewarded with a smirk before her mouth enveloped his fingers. She sucked the digit,  
her tongue swirling around the fingertip, before releasing it._ _

__Bruce wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn't. He was powerless,  
captivated by her. And he knew that she knew. Smiling, Elaine lowered her head to  
regard his cock. Her hands cupped her breasts, fingers tweaking the cinnamon-colored  
nipples. Bending, she pressed her breasts together, around Bruce's cock. The flesh was  
warm and slick, her skin gleaming with the oil. Slowly, Elaine began to move, fucking  
his cock with her breasts._ _

__Bruce groaned at the sensation, twisted his hips to thrust his dick between his lover's  
mammaries. He nearly screamed when Elaine suddenly freed his cock, first in  
frustration, then in pleasure as she slid her cherry lips over his manhood. Shuddering,  
Bruce arched his hips, trying to push more of his dick into her wet mouth. Elaine let  
him, settling herself against his lower body, sliding her hands beneath him to cup  
Bruce's muscular ass._ _

__He fell back against the bed, and she lowered her head, swallowing him. Bruce shut his  
eyes, his hands moving to brush her hair, splayed against his legs. Her tongue was  
slipping around his cock in ways no human woman could ever compete with. Teasing  
him. Tantalizing him. Bruce concentrated on breathing, on the feel of her hair, the smell  
of the oil in the air. He lost the capacity for rational thought, however, when Elaine  
thrust her finger up his asshole._ _

__The world fell apart in a blaze of pleasure. Bruce wasn't aware of crying out, of his hips  
rising up, fucking the beautiful woman's mouth. He wasn't aware of his asshole,  
burning and spasming around the finger penetrating it. The silk sheets of the hotel bed,  
the shadowplay against the far wall, everything vanished, consumed in a blaze of white  
light. _ _

__"Bruce?" Elaine's voice brought him back to himself._ _

__Opening his eyes, Bruce was aware of her, cuddled next to him, her head on his  
shoulder. One of her long legs was draped across his hips. He shut his eyes and  
exhaled. "That was. . .intense." _ _

__Elaine giggled and pressed a kiss into the juncture of throat and shoulder. He turned  
his head, and claimed her mouth with a surprising fierceness. She responded in kind._ _

__They parted and Bruce stared into her sea-green eyes. His hand rested lightly on her  
hip, drawing her closer to him. "You make me crazy," he whispered. "No one else does  
that. No one." _ _

__Elaine smiled and shifted her leg. His cock brushed her pussy. She was wet. Bruce had  
the sudden desire to go down, devour that silky flesh, worship it with his mouth.  
"Sometimes," Elaine said, "you need to get crazy."_ _

__Bruce grunted and then slid down, kissing a trail from Elaine's throat, over her  
quivering belly to the moist juncture between her legs. His tongue brushed her and  
she sighed, spread her legs wider for him. He kissed her bush and looked up at her  
face. He grinned. "Sometimes, you're right." Then he buried his head between her  
slim thighs and nothing was said for a very long time._ _

__To be continued..._ _

__***********date 20*******************_ _

__30/30 - Child's Play  
By Smitty_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: PG_ _

__"So whose great idea was this one, anyway?" Bruce growled in a voice that was very  
nearly the Voice save a cape and cowl._ _

__"Aw, aren't you having fun, Brucie?" Summer Levy bubbled into his ear, bouncing to  
the beat of N*Beat's 'I Will Love U 4-Ever'._ _

__Bruce dodged her wildly swinging blonde ponytail and pasted a wide toothpaste-  
commercial grin on his tense face._ _

__"They could at least learn to spell," he murmured, one hand sliding around Summer's  
waist to splay over her bared midriff._ _

__"Brucie!" Summer cuddled up to him, throwing both tanned--in October--arms around  
his neck and grinning winningly up at him._ _

__"People will start to talk and Daddy'll just hate that," she pointed out, tilting her head  
cutely._ _

__Bruce repressed another growl and turned his gaze skyward._ _

__"I feel like a child molester anyway," he sighed, removing his hands from 'Summer's'  
tight little abdominal area._ _

__"Aww," Summer sympathized, turning to rub her bottom against his thighs. "Really?"_ _

__Bruce closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm going to kill Clark," he promised  
himself, just loud enough for Summer to hear. "I swear."_ _

__"No, you won't," Summer teased. "Not after I..." She grinned and leaned up to whisper  
to Bruce exactly what J'onn was going to do with Summer's just-barely-legal body._ _

__Parts of Bruce were interested. Others...just weren't._ _

__"I'm thinking green," he suggested, plucking the strap of Summer's tank top back up  
onto her shoulder. "Very green."_ _

__Summer gave him a smile well past her years. "I think we can arrange that," she told  
him._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__"All I want to know is WHAT were you thinking?" Bruce asked, more in despair than in  
disgust._ _

__"Wonder Girl," J'onn announced serenely._ _

__"Wonder Girl? Who let Young Justice in on this?"_ _

__"Bruce. There are some things that I believe even you don't want to know."_ _

__Bruce thought about this._ _

__"It was Superboy, wasn't it?"_ _

__"Don't hurt the meta, Bruce."_ _

__"He's a clone. We can just make another one."_ _

__"There, there. You're all tense." J'onn grinned, amused by his own lack of sympathy.  
"After all, it all worked out in the end, didn't it?"_ _

__Bruce's rate of respiration increased as a smooth green tendril wound its way up his leg.  
He didn't reply, but rolled J'onn over and pulled up the covers as the stereo played the  
sweet strains of Miles Davis in the background._ _

__To be continued..._ _

__**********date 21******************_ _

__30/30: Is that a Rabbit in Your Pocket?  
By Chicago_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: G_ _

__To: GreenGuy@jlanet.org  
From: Oracle@jlanet.org  
RE: The Plan_ _

__Hey J'onn-  
I've checked all my sources, and unless he watched it on his own (yeah, right), he's  
never seen the movie. In fact, Dick mentioned that when it came out, he had tried to  
get him to go, and he was very much down on the idea._ _

__Garfield is absolutely tickled, BTW, and is programming my holo-room as I type. I can  
make myself scarce Tuesday night, but I have no idea how you're going to get him to  
go for it, even with the bet running. Keep me posted._ _

__Oracle_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To: Batman@jlanet.org  
From: GreenGuy@jlanet.org  
RE: Date #72_ _

__At 7:43 PM -0600, Bullseye wrote:  
>My ideal date would be watching movies with a bunch of friends._ _

__Clocktower, Tuesday, 8 pm before patrol._ _

__J_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To: sandstorm@jsa.org  
From: GreenGuy@jlanet.org  
RE: lyrics?_ _

__Hello Sand:_ _

__I am in need of the sheet music to a song called, "Why Don't You Do Right (Get Me  
Some Money Too)." Have you any idea where I might obtain it?_ _

__Sincerely,  
J'onn J'onzz_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To: stardude@jsa.org  
From: sandstorm@jsa.org  
RE: Fwd: lyrics?_ _

__Jack-  
Figured you could help J'onn out.  
Sand_ _

__At 8:07 PM -0600 , GreenGuy wrote:  
>Hello Sand:  
>  
>I am in need of the sheet music to a  
>song called, "Why Don't You Do Right  
>(Get Me Some Money Too)." Have  
>you any idea where I might obtain it?  
>  
>Sincerely,  
>J'onn J'onzz_ _

__

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To: sandstorm@jsa.org  
From: stardude@jsa.org  
RE: RE: Fwd: lyrics?_ _

__Yo Sand- Scanned it in and sent it .pdf. I wondered if they'd try Date #26. Think we can  
get footage? -Jack_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To: GreenGuy@jlanet.org  
From: changeling@titanswest.net  
RE: You're set_ _

__J'onn, my man!  
Got the whole scene programmed in, minus the detective and Jessica, of course. This so  
rocks!  
Gar_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To: GreenGuy@jlanet.org  
From: Batman@jlanet.org  
RE: Tuesday's date_ _

__I thought #72 was out because it wasn't new?  
-B_ _

__P.S. You know how I feel about those YJ suggestions._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To: GreenGuy@jlanet.org  
From: Big.Blue@jlanet.org  
RE: The Plan_ _

__J'onn,  
Just thought I'd warn you Batman is getting suspicious. And it seems the bet has leaked  
to an even wider public, if this email I just got from Arsenal is any indication. Figured  
you'd like a head's up._ _

__Kal_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To: DarkKnight@cave.net  
From: MM@cave.net  
RE: Tuesday's date_ _

__Kal cleared it. And after last night, I think we *earned* the right to something less new.  
Although..._ _

__I'd like it if you wore that 1920s cut suit with a fedora. And maybe a trench coat._ _

__Love,  
J'onn_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To: GreenGuy@jlanet.org  
From: Wingster@titans.net  
RE: Date night_ _

__Okay, I've got him convinced it's really date #72. Old movies, period dress, popcorn,  
etc. I'll get him to the Clocktower and then me and Babs will find an excuse to make  
ourselves scarce. Up to you to get him in the holo-room.  
NW_ _

__P.S. I'm leaving a copy of the DVD under the cutlery holder in the kitchen drawer next  
to the sink. Figured after this stunt he'll want to see the whole movie._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To: MM@cave.net  
From: DarkKnight@cave.net  
RE: RE: Tuesday's date_ _

__At 3:52 AM -0600, MM wrote:  
>Kal cleared it. And after last night, I think  
> we *earned* the right to something less new. _ _

__Agreed._ _

__> Although...  
>  
>I'd like it if you wore that 1920s cut suit  
> with a fedora. And maybe a trench coat._ _

__Oh really? Dressing me up as John Jones? *This* should be interesting._ _

__> Love,_ _

__Always,  
Bruce_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To: GreenGuy@jlanet.org  
From: Oracle@jlanet.org  
RE: Tuesday_ _

__Hey J'onn!_ _

__NW and I are planning to spend the night elsewhere, so no need to rush your plans.  
I'm also arranging for Oracle coverage through the Cave. Have fun playing patty cake!  
*smirk*_ _

__Oracle_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To: JRabbit@weconnect.com  
From: Top_Player@weconnect.com  
RE: Last Night_ _

__Hi Jessica-  
Just wanted to let you know I'm sitting at the office with the DVD player running, and  
that scene just came on. *grin* We should play patty cake more often.  
See you tonight?  
Bruce_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__To be continued..._ _

__************date 22*****************_ _

__MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?  
By ManEaterLad_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: G_ _

__It was past dusk, and the last fingers of light were slipping beneath the western horizon  
as the first stars appeared in the east. The sky was a dark, luscious purple. _ _

__Bruce Wayne stared at the woman on the swings, kicking her legs, rising higher and  
higher. She was lovely, slender and pale, with a mane of light brown hair that fell in  
ringlets down her back. Her features were lovely, and her laughter was that of a child._ _

__Smiling, Bruce walked to the swings and took a place behind her. She dragged her bare  
feet on the earth to stop the swing. Bruce's hand touched the space between her  
shoulders, steadying her. She twisted her head around and looked at him with warm  
green eyes. Her smile was mischievous._ _

__"You're late."_ _

__Bruce smirked and bent to kiss her. "The meeting ran over."_ _

__She laughed and turned away from him. "I suppose I could forgive you if you'd give  
me a push."_ _

__"All right."_ _

__He placed his hands on her back, felt the subtle shift of muscle over bone. She leaned  
back into his touch, legs rising in front of her. Her mass of brown hair brushed his  
hands and she was looking at him upside down, grinning with childish glee. Bruce  
couldn't resist bending forward and kissing her nose. It was slightly upturned, a little  
crooked._ _

__Adorable, he thought and saw her eyes crinkle with amusement._ _

__"Push me."_ _

__He did, gently, just enough to get the swing moving. She worked her hips, her legs, to  
gain momentum. Back and forth she went, her gauzy white dress flowing around her.  
Bruce pushed her, content to stand and watch her rise higher and higher. She laughed,  
urging him on._ _

__"Higher! Higher!"_ _

__Bruce grinned and pushed harder. "Careful, or you'll go all the way around."_ _

__Her laughter tickled his ears and she was falling back, a pale phantasm riding the night  
breeze. Bruce pushed her again and she flew up and simply . . . vanished._ _

__He blinked and caught the empty swing. The chain creaked beneath his hand, still  
warm from where she had gripped it. Slender white arms wrapped around his waist.  
He felt her rest her cheek against his back. She was warm and smelt like baby powder.  
For a moment, he stood there, while she hugged him._ _

__Releasing the swing, Bruce touched her hand. The skin was flawless, soft as silk. He  
traced the curve of her wrist with his thumb._ _

__"What's the matter?"_ _

__Her grip on him tightened. "What makes you think anything is the matter?" Her voice  
was soft and sleepy._ _

__Bruce turned in her embrace. She smiled up at him and lay her head against his chest.  
He stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head. "I know you," Bruce said quietly.  
"Something is bothering you."_ _

__She shifted in his arms. Her grip on him tightened. "It's nothing."_ _

__He hugged her back, bent his head to inhale the sweet scent of her. "It's something.  
Tell me?"_ _

__"I . . . miss her."_ _

__"Her?" Bruce asked gently. She looked up at him and her eyes were glittering. He  
frowned and stroked her cheek. "I've never seen you like this before."_ _

__She moved away from him, one hand resting lightly on his chest, above his heart. "Her  
name was Taryn Connor."_ _

__Bruce took her hand, clasped it between his own. "She was very pretty."_ _

__"Yes, I know."_ _

__"What happened?"_ _

__"She died."_ _

__Something in her voice made Bruce wary. "J'onn?"_ _

__"Taryn wasn't like the others. She was . . . me."_ _

__He reached for her, but his fingers slid through dress and flesh as if they were vapor._ _

__"I made her up," said the woman. Her head was bent, her hair falling around her face  
like a veil. Bruce couldn't see her expression, and her body language gave nothing  
away. _ _

__"She just showed up at party one night, about twenty-five years ago. No one there  
knew her, but she was fun and easy to talk to and she liked to dance."_ _

__"Taryn sounds . . . very nice."_ _

__"She was. Everyone said so."_ _

__"What happened to her?" Asked Bruce. "Did she move away and live happily ever  
after?"_ _

__"No. She was at a party at the country club and there was a fire. Eleven people died.  
She was one of them."_ _

__"Oh." Bruce blinked, peered at the spectral woman standing in front of him. In the  
dark, he could see the merry-go-round through her. "Why?"_ _

__"Why what?"_ _

__"Why did Taryn have to die? There were other survivors."_ _

__"Because she couldn't live," whispered the woman. "Not after what happened, not after  
running away."_ _

__Bruce stepped forward and spoke very softly. "But here she is."_ _

__"I know," whispered the ghost. "Someone suggested a date at a swing set and . . . there  
she was. Back from the grave."_ _

__"Welcome back, Taryn," murmured Bruce. He held out his hand. "Would you like to  
dance?"_ _

__For just a moment, he thought she would vanish entirely, but then her fingers closed  
around his. He could feel her trembling. Gently, Bruce drew her toward him. By the  
moonlight, he could see her eyes, shining with unshed tears._ _

__"There's no music," Taryn said softly._ _

__Bruce drew her close, wrapped his arms around her. "That's strange. I could swear I  
hear music."_ _

__He began to softly hum. She pressed her face into his chest and let him lead her in a  
slow, quiet waltz around the merry-go-round._ _

__To be continued..._ _

__************date 23****************_ _

__Late Night Double Feature  
By Chicago and 'rith_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: PG-13_ _

__The teleporter tingle faded, and Bruce Wayne looked around with interest. He was  
early, he knew, but he knew J'onn wouldn't mind. He had spent so little time in his  
lover's Denver apartment that he had half-intentionally plotted to beat J'onn home,  
knowing that the teleporter would be infinitely faster than J'onn's commute through  
the downtown rush hour._ _

__So he was early, standing in the living room of a three room apartment, and the urge  
he had had to appear in a vintage letterman's jacket struck him again. This place  
practically *screamed* 1950s; staid, utilitarian brown furniture, a linoleum tiled kitchen  
visible through an open door, a bakelite transistor radio next to a vintage lamp on the  
end table beside the sofa..._ _

__"It was cutting edge when I decorated," J'onn had excused wryly on one of their fleeting  
visits._ _

__It did have a certain austere warmth, Bruce decided, walking around the small living  
room. It was tidy, and, he noted, running a finger along the top of a framed print, dust  
free. He was not quite sure how J'onn managed that trick, given how infrequently he  
stayed here._ _

__His lips quirked as he noted the television set, color, at least, but still with two sets of  
knobs for VHF and UHF and not a remote to be seen. Correction. There *was* a  
remote for the VCR, the one item in the room that suggested there was life after 1970.  
Curious, Bruce peered behind the television, taking note of the array of converters and  
wires that trailed down to the VCR. Apparently J'onn's technological proficiency  
extended to primitive systems as well as to the semi-organic phantasmagoria of  
advanced Martian tech._ _

__Although for all that, the VCR still blinked 12:00 in the Denver dusk._ _

__Bruce resisted the urge to set it, opting instead to wander into the kitchen. It was small,  
but light and airy, with the fire escape running directly outside the window. There was  
an unwashed coffee cup in the single well sink and a pot, a plate and a fork in a dish  
drainer to the side. The range had a built in clock, also woefully inaccurate, with a  
timer, and the electric elements coiled over immaculately clean drip pans. A survey of  
the cupboards showed some cold cereal, a can of ground coffee, crackers, and several  
packages of Chocos. There were a few mismatched plates and plastic cups, a veritable  
testament of bachelorhood._ _

__The squat refrigerator was equally bare, holding only a quart of recently purchased  
milk and a package of hot dogs with one frankfurter missing. Obviously for show,  
Bruce decided, given J'onn really did not have to eat. Bruce chuckled to himself. "John  
Jones, minimalist," he mused aloud, closing the refrigerator and migrating to the  
bedroom._ _

__The furniture was no newer than it was anywhere else in the apartment, but the  
bedroom managed to convey a more contemporary feel. The bedspread and area rug  
looked newish, and a CD player sat atop the chest of drawers, a short row of CDs lined  
up beside it. Bruce cocked his head to read the titles, aware of the jingle of keys at the  
front door._ _

__"Everything pass muster?" John Jones asked from the bedroom doorway, his low  
rumble colored with amusement._ _

__Bruce glanced up and returned to his perusal. "Interesting collection," he remarked. He  
slid a CD from the row and held it up. "Break-dance Hits?"_ _

__"Paco," John answered quietly. "Vibe."_ _

__Bruce suddenly felt disrespectful._ _

__John's voice began to shift registers as he crossed toward Bruce. "He left some tapes at  
headquarters, and his brother didn't want them." Slim arms slid around Bruce's waist,  
and he felt a kiss between his shoulder blades. "I replaced them with CDs a few years  
ago."_ _

__Bruce put the CD back in its place on the shelf and turned in the circle of what were  
now Alana's arms. He enfolded her, gently kissing her forehead. "So all of these-"_ _

__"Oh, some are my choices. And Gypsy sends me things from time to time, telling me I  
need to keep up to date. But yes, a lot of them fell to me from the Detroit days or the  
Task Force. And are you ready to go catch a movie?"_ _

__Bruce looked down at Alana, who leaned back and gave him a very deliberate 'change  
the subject' smile. "I still would be happier if we just burned the Young Justice list,"  
Bruce stated._ _

__"Cranky," she scolded, giving him a fond poke in the ribs. "Drive-ins are fun. And I still  
wish we could've taken the Batmobile."_ _

__"Alana," Bruce rumbled threateningly._ _

__She laughed, pulling away from him. "Yeah, I know, urban legend, reputation, etc. etc.  
I just wanted to hear you growl. Besides," she added over her shoulder, heading back  
into the living room, "this way *I* get to drive."_ _

__Bruce lounged against the doorframe, watching as Alana picked up the mail she - John -  
had dropped on the phone table on the way in and began sorting through it. "I thought  
traditionally the man drives to these things."_ _

__Alana snorted and let a few envelopes drop into trash bin. Her slim body grew and  
bulked into John Jones. "Are you saying you want flaunt societal conventions?" the  
Denver PI asked with Alana's coy intonation._ _

__Bruce raised his hand to his eyes and shook his head. "Remind me again why I'm  
dating you?"_ _

__"Because I'm cute," John replied, stepping forward and sidling in to kiss Bruce's cheek._ _

__Bruce shuddered at the brush of five o'clock shadow. "Not *that* cute," he objected._ _

__John pouted, obligingly changing back into Alana, upon whom the pout had a definite  
appeal. "I'll never understand this whole gender thing. John's cute in his way."_ _

__Bruce leaned in to kiss Alana, giving a little nip to the protruding lower lip and making  
her giggle. "John is *handsome,*" Bruce corrected, "but I prefer a few more curves." He  
let his hand trace down the side of her body to illustrate the point._ _

__"Mmm, Mr. Wayne. Keep that up and we won't get to the movie."_ _

__"Too bad," Bruce breathed without any sense of regret, spanning the palm of one hand  
across the small of Alana's back as he nuzzled her neck._ _

__Alana squirmed free and snatched up her car keys. She jingled them imperiously in  
Bruce's face. "*I'm* driving."_ _

__Bruce chuckled as he reached for her wrist, not entirely surprised when Alana eluded  
him and gave him a look of impatience. "Fine. You're driving."_ _

__"And... you've already had a date with Alana."_ _

__Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I have?"_ _

__"Remember, football, Kal doing landscaping-?"_ _

__"I don't think-"_ _

__"Something new. But not until we get to movie. I have Alana show up here often  
enough that no one will think twice about her coming out of the apartment -"_ _

__"But no one will notice me, eh?" Bruce commented._ _

__Alana stuck her tongue out at him in a surprisingly un-J'onnlike gesture. "Shows what  
you know. Anyone who looks will think Alana and her cousin John are going out for  
the evening."_ _

__"Fine," Bruce sighed dramatically, "loan me a trench coat."_ _

__"Uh uhn," Alana denied, grabbing Bruce's hand and leading him to the bathroom.  
"Look," she ordered._ _

__He obeyed, startled to see John Jones looking back at him from the mirror._ _

__Alana tiptoed to rest her chin on his shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror.  
"Telepathic projection. Too much work to be more than a fun parlor trick, but-"_ _

__Bruce blinked, trying to force himself to see through the illusion._ _

__"Don't," Alana protested. "You'll give us both a headache. I'll drop it once we're out of  
the neighborhood." She jingled her keys again. "Ready to go?"_ _

__Bruce gamely allowed her to lead him to the front door. "So what're we going to see,  
anyway?"_ _

__She shrugged, propelling him ahead of her and then locking up the apartment. "I  
haven't been by this week, but last week they were playing 'Chicago.""_ _

__"A document-?" Bruce began in confusion._ _

__"Come on," Alana interrupted. "We need to pick up our pizza on the way."_ _

__"Pizza?"_ _

__Alana only shook her head and continued to pull him down the hall and to the garage._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__'Chicago' was, in fact, still playing at the drive-in, and Alana seemed delighted._ _

__It wasn't a documentary, that much was certain._ _

__Maybe based on a true story, but..._ _

__"You like?" a breathy little voice asked, and Bruce glanced down to see that Alana had  
been replaced by a perfect replica of the woman on the giant screen. One of her hands  
slipped between his legs, and his body answered before he could_ _

__"J'onn," he protested half-heartedly._ _

__The platinum-blonde temptress snuggling up to him in the bucket seat of the T-bird  
shifted her hand lazily, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes. "Am I distracting you  
from the plot?"_ _

__Bruce swallowed hard as the sound of his zipper being pulled down found a lull after a  
musical number. "J'onn-"_ _

__Full lips pouted up at him. "My name is Roxie." Her hand tightened a little as one bare  
leg slipped over his thigh and brought her up to straddle his leg. "Don't you recognize  
me?"_ _

__Bruce felt his eyes drifting down the décolletage of her silver, form-fitting dress.  
"Ummm-"_ _

__She smiled, taking up one of his hands and pressing it to her bosom. "Mmm, that's it,  
sugar."_ _

__With an effort, Bruce pulled his hand away. "No, J'onn," he said firmly. "Roxie Hart  
was a murderer. She broke the law. All the pretty packaging in the world won't make  
that attractive." He was proud of how his voice did not have the least tremor, relieved  
at the strong conviction in his tone that caused Roxie to sit back, if not to disappear._ _

__She regarded him for a moment, long enough for him to start feeling nervous. He  
pointedly pulled his zipper back up, avoiding "Roxie's" eyes. "Not attractive?" she  
asked._ _

__Bruce nodded forcefully. "Not at all."_ _

__Roxie raised an eyebrow, "Oh?" she said, and abruptly, Roxie was replaced by Talia al-  
Ghul. _ _

__"Is."_ _

__Another shift, this time to Poison Ivy._ _

__"That."_ _

__He squirmed as suddenly Catwoman was on his lap._ _

__"So?"_ _

__Bruce felt the blood surging through his body, could swear he could hear his heart  
beating, overriding the tap dancing piped into the car through the drive-in sound box.  
"Well," he sputtered, "maybe *attractive* in a purely... physical... but... but I would  
never..."_ _

__J'onn's Catwoman form cocked her head at him._ _

__"I mean when I was younger... before I really..." Bruce chuckled nervously.  
"Hormones, you know, and -"_ _

__Catwoman blurred back into Roxie Hart, and Bruce realized his zipper was down again.  
Lipstick red lips pressed against his, silencing another attempt at explanation, and he  
moaned, half in protest and half in desire._ _

__Roxie leaned back and studied him, her expression thoughtful._ _

__He met her eyes, his chest heaving for air._ _

__Her fingers traced over his lips, and after a moment she reached down to rezip his  
trousers. _ _

__He shuddered slightly at the contact._ _

__"It... troubles you... that this type of woman... excites you."_ _

__He continued to focus on getting his breathing under control, focusing..._ _

__"Don't," Alana whispered, brushing her hand against his cheek and drawing attention to  
the fact that J'onn had once again changed forms. "This doesn't need the Bat." She  
placed a chaste kiss on his forehead and shifted off his lap, sliding back to her own seat,  
negotiating awkwardly over the gear shift._ _

__He reached over to catch her hand, and his voice caught a little as he said, "Damn  
bucket seats."_ _

__Alana laughed lightly. "Yeah, I miss my old Impala, too."_ _

__"Impala?" Bruce gaped. "Please tell me you're making that up."_ _

__"It was a good car - four on the floor, wide bench seats, handled the mountain roads..."_ _

__"An Impala," Bruce repeated flatly, feeling his body relaxing, his mind latching with  
relief onto this new, playful discussion._ _

__"Well, it's not like John Jones can afford a new Jaguar," Alana pointed out. "And for the  
amount of time I spend rescuing my car from impound lots-"_ _

__Bruce gave her an appalled look. "J'onn! Impound lots?"_ _

__Alana shrugged, leaning across the gap between the seats to rest her head on Bruce's  
shoulder. "Lot of weird tow zones in Denver. In a lot of cities, actually. Hard to keep  
straight. Plus when the world is ending its not like you can take a break to feed your  
meter."_ _

__Bruce snorted, reaching to rest his arm across Alana's shoulders. "Fine. But the way  
you drive? You should have something better than an Impala. Better than this T-bird,  
too. Where did you learn to drive like that, anyway?"_ _

__Alana smiled. "I like to drive," she said smugly, and Bruce realized that she - that J'onn -  
meant it, and had meant it for 50 years, and likely had tried every stretch of unpatrolled  
road in the world._ _

__He squeezed her closer. "You never mentioned-"_ _

__"How often do we ever go driving together?"_ _

__Not very, Bruce conceded. His eyes drifted back to the screen, caught by the 'razzle-  
dazzle' of a film he was finding increasingly morally repugnant. "Maybe we should go  
driving more often," he suggested._ _

__"The Batmobile?" Alana asked, hope bleeding into her tone._ _

__Bruce hesitated in surprise; it had never occurred to him that J'onn might want to drive-_ _

__A kiss on his cheek interrupted his thought, and J'onn's mental voice stated, *Who  
doesn't want to drive the Batmobile?*_ _

__Bruce could not help himself; he began to laugh. An image - from his own imagination  
or a suggestion from J'onn? - popped into his head of the Martian Manhunter in a high  
powered convertible and wearing aviator sunglasses, and he laughed harder. It was a  
rare belly laugh, rusty from disuse and tinged with relief as the awkward tension of  
"Roxie's" appeal finally dissipated. He could feel Alana - J'onn - curling into the warmth  
of that laughter. They were once again snuggled together in his bucket seat when he  
finally stopped laughing._ _

__"I think I've lost the thread of the movie," Bruce confessed, wrapping his arms more  
securely around his lover._ _

__"You're expected to at a drive-in," Alana explained, her voice muffled against his chest.  
The warmth of her body against his felt... comfortable. Not erotic, just pleasant._ _

__"Hmm. That's why one of the kids thought it would be an ideal date, isn't it?"_ _

__"Semi-sanctioned parking," Alana acknowledged._ _

__"Please tell me it wasn't Robin's idea."_ _

__"Bruce, you know better," Alana reprimanded. "But he is going to be *so* jealous."_ _

__"Wha- Alana-" Bruce screwed up his face, trying to fathom what Alana was trying to  
say._ _

__"Because I get to drive the Batmobile," she explained._ _

__"I-"_ _

__"You are going to let me, right?" Alana leaned back and studied him with pleading  
eyes._ _

__He sighed. "I am going to learn to resist that look," he promised._ _

__"I can drive it, right?"_ _

__He drew her back to his chest. "You can drive it." He kissed her hair._ _

__"Tonight?" she asked._ _

__"Don't push it," he cautioned, and he could feel her grin._ _

__"Fair enough. Later, then."_ _

__"Later," he agreed. A reprise of an earlier song began, playing over the sound box, and  
he realized with a start that he *knew* the song. The first phrases were played and he  
realized he was half-unconsciously tapping out the two beat pause. Alana lifted her  
head and grinned._ _

__"Sounds like your night life," she remarked, listening to the lyrics._ _

__"Speaking of..."_ _

__"You want to go?"_ _

__Bruce considered for a moment, looking at the screen. "After this song."_ _

__"And I get to drive the Batmobile?"_ _

__An impressive line of scantily clad women began an elaborate dance. "If I get to pick  
tomorrow's date."_ _

__Alana climbed back over to the driver's seat. "You have got a deal."_ _

__Fifteen minutes later, they were heading back to J'onn's apartment, and Bruce realized  
he was looking forward to the night's second feature._ _

__To be continued..._ _

__**********date 24******************_ _

__

__30/30: For a Song  
by nw's chick_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: PG-13_ _

__* indicates emphasis *  
/ indicates telepathy /_ _

__~*~_ _

__The instructions had been cryptic, at best. A simple note sent to the Watchtower  
detailing a change in plans for tonight's date. It merely listed a new time, ten thirty, a  
new location, a seedy bar on 23rd and Ballington called the Seahorse, and some  
suggestions for how to dress._ _

__J'onn smiled at the gruff man at the door, using a small trick of the mind to make him  
think the business card for a psychologist was actually an license for a Mandy Hepburn,  
aged 29. Eyeing the image in the glass behind the bouncer, J'onn decided that Bruce  
would approve._ _

__Tugging at the short purple dress, he awkwardly flounced into the bar, taking each step  
slowly so as not to tumble in his six-inch spiked heels. The bar was dark, with blue and  
green lights casting shadows over the heavy wooden tables, the shifty-eyed clientele,  
and the boisterous wait staff. The only white light was over the stage, which was  
currently empty, decorated with only a tattered blue velvet curtain. Mandy flipped  
back her bleach blonde hair, and made her way to the bar._ _

__Her head was spinning a little. This was certainly not the sort of place she would have  
thought that Bruce would choose for a date. It was a lot danker than Bruce's choices  
normally were, plus there was the whole drag cabaret thing going on that surprised  
her. Still though, she could almost hear Bruce say, 'Well, this *is* different,' so she  
determined to keep an open mind._ _

__The bartender was a tired-looking guy with a droopy goatee and a whole thatch of  
chest hair sticking out the top of his shirt. He looked her up and down, and then  
grinned. "What c'n I getcha, little lady?" He leaned over the bar, giving Mandy a better  
look at his oily skin._ _

__"Oh, I'll just have a vodka and cranberry juice, thanks." Mandy smiled, managing a  
small giggle at the end of her order, as she straightened her dress a little, pushing her  
small chest out._ _

__"And I'll have a whiskey and water, thanks." An arm snaked around her waist as a hot  
mouth swooped down to nibble on her ear._ _

__Mandy giggled, leaning against the body of her boyfriend suggestively. /Interesting  
venue./_ _

__/I thought you might find it a bit different./ Bruce put a twenty down on the bar,  
picking up the drinks and turning away, earning back the regard of the bartender who  
obviously felt like he had been duped._ _

__/So, what's your cover tonight?/ Mandy sipped at her drink consciously aware of her  
thick lipstick as she wrapped her lips around the edge of the glass._ _

__Bruce steered them to a table in the shadows with a good view of the stage and the side  
door. /Well, it's a variant of Matches Malone, but I don't use it enough to have a name  
for him. Call me Lucky./_ _

__/We'll see about that.../ Mandy teased, slipping into the chair Bruce held out for her  
with a swing of her hips. /So, do I look trashy enough?/_ _

__Bruce smiled, sliding his chair close to Mandy's, and placing his arm behind her. /You  
look perfect./_ _

__"So we've never been here before, Lucky." Mandy's slightly nasal voice tickled Bruce's  
ear. "Do you come here often?"_ _

__"First time. What do you think?" Bruce leaned back, taking a long sip from his drink._ _

__Mandy looked around, her eyes trailing across the mix of drag queens, badly dressed  
gay men, and scruffy older voyeurs. "It *is* different."_ _

__Bruce winked. "My sentiments exactly. There's a show, too. Should be starting soon."_ _

__Mandy leaned into the arm behind her. "You've got high hopes for this evening, don't  
you, *Lucky*?" /So I guess this is why you wanted me to aim for something like a  
cross between Madonna and Judy Garland. Not an easy combo, by the way.../_ _

__Bruce kissed Mandy's shoulder. /No, but you've done your usual magnificent job.  
*Love* the dress, by the way./_ _

__"So, tell me baby, what made ya think of comin' here anyway?" Mandy put her chin on  
her hands, eyeing her boyfriend critically. _ _

__"Well." Bruce took another drink, which Mandy noted was a deceptively small sip given  
the amount of time he had the glass to his lips. "I know you appreciate the male form."  
He made a small gesture with his hand, as if he were displaying his body. "And I also  
know you appreciate the feminine graces. I thought... you might actually enjoy  
something like this, a chance to explore part of your psyche that you don't normally get  
to, at least, not with me."_ _

__Bruce shrugged as he finished his explanation, the slight curvature of his lips indicating  
both a self-depreciating humor and a sense of irony. He sounded sincere, and Mandy  
could tell that he was._ _

__Music swelled up, and the curtain slid back, a cutout of the Eiffel Tower stood askew in  
stage right, and a glowing red windmill turned slowly on stage left. There was a line of  
dancers in sequined gowns with plenty of leg exposed in the backstage._ _

__Center stage, a figure arose like a flower blooming. 'She' was beautiful, her smooth  
skin shining with a touch of glitter, and her low-cut dress highlighting her figure  
perfectly. 'She' wore a purple wig, that somehow managed to look natural, and she  
had a small beauty mark underneath her right eye._ _

__Once 'she' was fully erect, she launched into the first number, predictably Diamonds are  
a Girl's Best Friend._ _

__Mandy watched with delighted eyes as the dancers swung their legs up, and dazzled  
the audience. They were really very good, for a drag show in the low rent district in  
Gotham._ _

__Bruce pulled Mandy a bit closer, enjoying the scent that surrounded her. He was never  
100% sure if J'onn created the scent during transformation, or if it was a perfume, but  
whichever, it was never quite the same scent in each form, and it was always  
captivating._ _

__"There's something else." Mandy sighed as she murmured in her boyfriend's ear.  
"You're trying to hide it from me, but that's just silly. Now spill."_ _

__Bruce sighed, bracing himself. "See the guy in the front? Long braid down his back?"  
He waited until Mandy's eyes were in the right spot. "That's Johnny Dionisiou. Known  
as Johnny the Queer, for obvious reasons. Don't underestimate him because of his size  
or hair. He's one of the more deadly assassins working for the Florias family."_ _

__"I didn't think that the mob would approve of homosexuals much." Mandy studied the  
boy Bruce had pointed out. He didn't look much older than 20, but there was  
something about him that suggested he was actually much older._ _

__"They don't, but Johnny's other name is the God of Death, so people pretty much leave  
him to himself." Bruce nudged Mandy's chin with his cheek. "See the lead dancer? His  
name is Danny Giannios. Youngest son of the head of the Giannios family, age  
seventeen, four days ago. The Giannios family is an old rival of the Florias family,  
going back to Sicily. He went missing about three months ago. Family tension has  
been pretty high since then. Daddy Giannios doesn't know where he is, naturally  
wouldn't approve if he found out his baby boy was dressing like a woman and singing  
for a living, and he certainly wouldn't approve of who Danny is living with."_ _

__"Johnny the Queer." Mandy grinned, hiding her expression from Bruce. Bruce just  
never understood how anyone could enjoy this sort of thing._ _

__"Right. But word is, Daddy knows now. Someone gave them up. See in the corner  
there, the scary looking guy in the trench?"_ _

__"Yeah. He's about as subtle as a strobe light."_ _

__"He's the Giannios family's best hit man, Duke."_ _

__"So who gave up the lovebirds?"_ _

__"See the skinny boy at the bar, shaggy brown hair, looks sweet and innocent, watching  
Johnny like he's the devil? That's Johnny's ex, Oliver. He sold out his ex-lover this  
afternoon for five grand."_ _

__"And they say there's nothing like a *woman* scorned." Mandy straightened up,  
affecting an insulted posture._ _

__Bruce chuckled. "Well... I'm sorry for mixing work with pleasure, but I got a bead on  
this late this afternoon, and I couldn't wait... I *did* think that you might enjoy the  
show anyway..."_ _

__"It's great!" Mandy grinned at Bruce, kissing his cheek. "So, what's the plan, Lucky?"_ _

__Bruce shrugged. "Stop Duke. Warn Johnny and Danny. Live up to the name."_ _

__Mandy rolled her eyes. "Well, one can always hope..."_ _

__The next number started up, and Danny made his way off the stage and into the  
audience. Mandy leaned against Bruce, watching the boy slither through the crowd  
appreciatively. He had a way about him. He could captivate even the most  
beleaguered, sad drunk. His voice was half sultry, and half vixen. His eyes were pure  
wicked joy, and his lips were constantly twitched into a devilish grin. The boy might  
really be seventeen, but he was never sweet sixteen._ _

__Bruce's eyes darted from Danny, to Johnny, to Duke, to Oliver. As the throaty strains  
of Danny's song wound their way around the bar, Bruce could see into each of his  
marks better than even J'onn. Danny was living the high life, thinking that he was  
invincible. He was young, beautiful, and madly in love. Nothing could stop him.  
Johnny was enthralled. For an assassin known for his deadly arts, he was being  
unforgivably sloppy tonight. His eyes never left his lover's, and he was so fully under  
the boy's spell, he wouldn't even notice if someone was standing right behind him._ _

__Duke was enjoying the show. He was a man who enjoyed his work. He was looking  
forward to capping the great God of Death. He might even kill Danny, and tell his boss  
that it was unavoidable._ _

__Oliver wanted Johnny back, and the poor boy thought that this might be the way. It  
was obvious from the way that the boy was watching Johnny. He was nearly  
obsessed. Giannios probably promised that he would get his son back, and away from  
Johnny. How he had managed to convince himself that Johnny would get out alive  
was a mystery. Probably, he believed that nothing would be able to touch his Johnny._ _

__J'onn took a minute to sneak a glance at Bruce, appreciating the way the man was able  
to discern things without telepathy. It was... beautiful, really. Though J'onn would  
never had the words to express that to Bruce, but his ability to see into people was one  
of his more attractive traits._ _

__J'onn only knew that things were heating up when Bruce went unobtrusively tense.  
And it wasn't just the way Danny was rubbing against Johnny. Oliver looked like he  
was going to break his glass, his eyes twitching with rage as he watched his ex respond  
to Danny's seduction. _ _

__Duke had his hand under his trench, and he looked like he was getting off on the idea  
of whacking them._ _

__Mandy slid up against Bruce, letting her hand drift to his lap. /Is it about to go down?/_ _

__/This isn't a mobster movie, you know./_ _

__/No, this is much better./_ _

__Bruce shook his head. He knew that J'onn was well aware of the seriousness of the  
situation. _ _

__The players were all in position. Danny had plopped himself into Johnny's lap for the  
big finale of the song. Duke was poised, ready to move. Oliver was furious, his  
knuckles clenched tight as he watched._ _

__"I'm going to the bar to get another." Bruce had somehow made the glass of whiskey  
and water disappear while only taking a sip or two._ _

__Mandy batted her eyelashes. "Don't be long."_ _

__It was like watching a house of cards come tumbling down. Bruce made his way to the  
bar, keeping an eye on Danny and Johnny, apparently enjoying the show. Oliver was  
ready to leap up and throw Danny off of Johnny. Duke made his move._ _

__Oliver jumped up, but whether he was heading for the stage or for the door was  
irrelevant, because Bruce stumbled into him, causing them both to stumble right into  
Duke. Duke yelled out, startled as Bruce twisted his body, sending them all to the floor.  
Johnny's head immediately flicked back to the scene behind him. As soon as he saw  
Duke, his eyes widened, and he jumped up, displacing Danny and halting the song._ _

__Grabbing Danny's arm, Johnny tried to get him to go back stage, but Duke was already  
pushing Bruce and Oliver out of the way, a large black revolver at the end of his arm.  
Johnny then threw Danny to the ground, and pulled out his own piece. _ _

__Oliver screamed, realizing that Duke was pointing a gun at Johnny. He then did  
something so stupid, no one could ever have believed it. He pushed Bruce out of the  
way, and stepped in front of the gun. _ _

__Fortunately, Bruce's reflexes were better than anyone else's on the planet, and he  
grabbed Oliver's ankle, pulling him down. _ _

__But Duke and Johnny still had guns to each other's heads, and recognizing each other,  
they were ready to shoot._ _

__That's when Batman jumped out from behind the stage. He landed on Johnny, pushing  
him out of the way, and sending his shot into the ceiling. Duke's shot hit the wall  
behind them, harmlessly excepting the plaster. Bruce then tackled Duke, wrapping his  
arms around Duke's waist. The Bat then pulled Johnny and Danny to their feet,  
disarming Johnny in the process. In a low, gravely voice, he warned them, "Your  
father's after you both, Daniel. I think it might be time for the honeymoon."_ _

__Bruce shook his head, but was too busy struggling with Duke to bother. Pulling the  
man's belt out, he hog-tied him, ignoring the string of curses spewing out of his mouth._ _

__Batman disappeared into the shadows, and Bruce slipped out of the back door as the  
bar began to erupt as everyone finally was able to react to the ruckus._ _

__Bruce found Batman already sitting in the passenger seat of his discretely parked  
Maserati Spyder. He sighed as he was getting in. Always different, that was life with  
J'onn, 'dates' or no..._ _

__"You'd better change back, before I start to have some very odd mental pictures of  
being with myself that will cause me to make you sleep in the guestroom for the next  
month." Bruce got the car started before he had finished buckling up, wanting to get as  
far from the scene of the crime as fast as he could._ _

__He watched Batman melt into Mandy from the corner of his eye. For a second, he was  
overwhelmed. Grabbing Mandy's head with one hand, he pulled her over for a rough  
kiss. "Have I told you lately how amazing you are?"_ _

__"Depends on your definition of lately." Mandy smirked cheekily, getting herself  
comfortable a little closer to Bruce than she was before. _ _

__"I'm sorry about the date, though. I should have just canceled. I'll make it up, though."_ _

__"You don't need to apologize." Mandy put her head on Bruce's shoulder. "Would you  
get mad at me if I said that it was fun, and I wanted to do it again."_ _

__Bruce just grunted._ _

__"Ok, what did I do wrong?" Mandy sighed as she chuckled, putting one hand on  
Bruce's thigh._ _

__For a moment, Bruce didn't want to answer. Then, "Batman's voice isn't that gravelly.  
You made him sound like a smoker. He would never have said anything like 'I think it  
might be time for the honeymoon.' And..."_ _

__"And...?" Mandy grinned, keeping her thoughts about Batman's voice to herself._ _

__"And... You let a murderer go free."_ _

__"It was romantic."_ _

__"It wasn't a gangster movie. Johnny the Queer has killed a dozen men this year alone."_ _

__"I think he has more on his mind these days."_ _

__Bruce was about to chastise him, and then he thought twice. Remembering that J'onn  
was not Dick or Tim, or even Barbara, he sighed. "I suppose that's based on more than  
just wishful thinking?"_ _

__"He really loves that boy, Bruce." Mandy arched her neck so that she could see Bruce's  
eye. "He would die for him."_ _

__"That boy is seventeen, and he was sixteen when Johnny seduced him."_ _

__"I... don't think that's how it worked. I think it was entirely the other way around. At  
least, from what I gathered from Danny."_ _

__Bruce mulled over this information for a moment. "All right. No harm, I suppose. I  
am sorry that our date was ruined. I really did think that you might enjoy a show like  
that, although not in such a sleazy dive. Danny *was* good though, wasn't he?"_ _

__Mandy's hand slipped down to Bruce's inner thigh. "Yeah, he was great. And anyway,  
this date... Well, it's not over yet... *Lucky*."_ _

__Bruce's lips twitched. He made a mental note to call Barbara and have her monitor Tim  
and Cass while they patrolled._ _

__He had to finish his date._ _

__~*~_ _

__To be continued..._ _

__*************date 25******************_ _

__30/30: Fair Fare  
by Chicago_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: PG-13, possibly R_ _

__"Sticky," Kelli Taybor commented, holding out pink stained fingers to demonstrate._ _

__Bruce caught her hand and teasingly tasted one sugary finger. "What did you expect  
from cotton candy?" he asked, pulling a tiny tuft off the diminishing ball of confection._ _

__Kelli smiled and tiptoed to kiss him, the cotton candy dissolving between their tongues  
when Bruce leaned down to deepen the kiss. Kelli finally pulled away and wiped the  
back of her forearm over her mouth with a grin. "Sticky," she said again, green eyes  
glinting mischievously._ _

__Bruce chuckled a little and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hugging her from  
the back and kissing the space behind her ear. "So does that mean you like it?" he  
murmured into her hair._ _

__"I like you," she replied, leaning back into him for a moment before slipping out of his  
embrace and dropping the last of the cotton candy into a green painted oil barrel that  
served as a trash can._ _

__Bruce raised an eyebrow. "A little wasteful?"_ _

__"I can feel my teeth rotting," she answered sunnily, and Bruce shook his head at her.  
J'onn had picked perfectly for an afternoon at the Gotham State Fair. "Kelli" was a  
perfect archetype of the kind of former ingénue turned idealist that staffed so many of  
the non-profits supported by the Wayne Foundation. Business-like when need be but  
never with the high polish of professionalism that characterized the Fortune 500 set.  
Smart - often very smart - but always retaining a "gee whiz" sensibility just under the  
veneer of big city activism. Only J'onn would pick up the occasional surge of desire  
Bruce felt for this type of woman, so far out of his usual social set as to be a laughable  
match._ _

__"C'mon!" Kelli urged, pulling at his hand. This much sweetness might rot *Bruce's*  
teeth eventually, but now "Kelli's" delight was only charming - especially as it came  
close to J'onn's very real delight at experiencing new things. He indulged her now as  
her short braids bounced against her shoulders and she wove through the crowd with a  
sense of determination._ _

__She stopped finally in front of a contest booth, set up with wooden pins and baseballs.  
A hawker challenged passersby to knock over the pins with a ball, three chances for a  
dollar, and look at the lovely prizes! Bruce and Kelli caught his eye and he began to  
direct his patter: "Win a teddy for your sweetheart. Don't let that pretty face go home  
disappointed..."_ _

__Bruce glanced down at Kelli. "It's rigged, you know," he pointed out._ _

__"Just one dollar here! Not too much to spend on such a pretty lady..."_ _

__"Give me a dollar."_ _

__"You do understand the way the pins are weighted -" He was reaching for his wallet._ _

__"Dick told you all that," she pointed out, her hand held out for the requested dollar.  
"And I don't want *you* to win me anything. I'm going to win myself."_ _

__She tossed her head defiantly as she stepped up to the booth and handed over the  
dollar. The barker grinned appreciatively. "She's got spunk!" he noted. "You've got  
your hands full with this one." He handed over three baseballs. "Right behind that line,  
young lady. Show your man what it takes."_ _

__Kelli followed instructions, drawing her arm back and launching a pitch that went wide  
of the pins by a good margin._ _

__"Gonna hafta straighten out that curve," the carnival man encouraged. "I can let your  
boyfriend take part of your -"_ _

__"He couldn't hit the broadside of a barn," Kelli snorted, laughter dancing in her eyes as  
she gave Bruce a teasing look._ _

__Bruce shrugged. "She has a point."_ _

__Kelli unleashed another throw, hitting the pins this time but with so little force that they  
remained undisturbed. "Just getting warmed up," she assured, rubbing the final  
baseball in her hands._ _

__"And throwing like a girl," Bruce observed._ _

__Kelli turned to him and struck a pose. "Go figure," she threw back. "Chest gets in the  
way."_ _

__Bruce noticed that he was not the only one appreciating the truth of that particular  
remark - and he repressed a tangled flash of jealousy and pride to share a look with the  
carnival man such as men share in such moments. He knew Kelli saw it (or rather,  
J'onn did), but she had turned back to her task and stood staring at the pins, sticking  
out the tip of her tongue in concentration. She reared back finally and unleashed a  
perfect strike, sending the pins sailing._ _

__"Damn!" the carnival man started. "You have got some kind of arm there, miss."_ _

__Kelli smiled sweetly. "It was me and six brothers, plus two neighbor boys. They stuck  
me in the outfield for both sides until I figured out how to throw a strike home on the  
fly. And I'll take that one." She pointed to a bright green teddy bear._ _

__The barker pulled down the requested plush toy. "Matches your eyes," he noted._ _

__"Family trait." Kelli handed the bear to Bruce. "For you."_ _

__He accepted the bear, noting it did in fact match Kelli's eyes. He studied it for a  
moment then tucked it under his arm. "So where -"_ _

__He paused, following her suddenly distant gaze. There was a sign tacked up on a  
telephone pole in the middle of the midway, garishly promoting the evening's  
entertainment. Bruce stepped closer to Kelli, putting his arm around her shoulders and  
drawing her away from the contest booth. "Do you want to go?" he asked._ _

__A sudden blush colored Kelli's cheeks. "Oh. No, I - well -"_ _

__"We can, you know. If you want to."_ _

__She looked up into his face earnestly. "I've just - I've never seen them before. On TV a  
little, enough to know what they are, but..."_ _

__Bruce tightened his hold and kissed the top of your head. "A little scary?"_ _

__She nodded. "Yes. I know it's not open flame exactly, but -"_ _

__"It's okay," he reassured, rubbing his hand over her upper arm. "Do you want to try to  
watch? We could leave if it's too much."_ _

__Kelli looked up into his eyes uncertainly. "We don't have to. I know you have things  
you have to do tonight-"_ _

__Bruce pulled out his cell phone and began punching in numbers. Kelli watched him  
wide eyed._ _

__"Bruce, you really don't-"_ _

__"You want to see them?" he asked again as he put the phone to his ear._ _

__Kelli responded mutely, J'onn's eyes speaking to him from beneath the facade._ _

__"Hi, Barbara! Bruce." Bruce spoke into the receiver._ _

__Barbara's careful reply was rich with unspoken comments. "Mr. Wayne! What can I do  
for you?" _ _

__"Listen, you know about that project I've been working on?"_ _

__Wariness tinged with amusement crept into Barbara's tone. "Yes. What about it?"_ _

__"Well, I was wondering if you could do a little outsourcing for me on tonight's schedule.  
Looks like I'm going to need more time out here."_ _

__"Things are going well, then?" Definite amusement now, undercut with vague  
irritation._ _

__"Pretty well, yeah," Bruce acknowledged, glancing down at Kelli's face._ _

__"I'll take care of this evening, then," she replied, "but I'll expect an update through the  
usual channels on this project of yours."_ _

__Bruce tilted the phone down under his chin. "She wants an update later," he told Kelli._ _

__He got a nod in return._ _

__"You'll get one," Bruce promised. "Thanks, Barbara."_ _

__"You're welcome." The undertone was almost a threat not to make a habit of this.  
Bruce closed his phone._ _

__"You didn't have to do that," Kelli pointed out, but her eyes were shining._ _

__"I know," Bruce acknowledged, steering her through the crowd. "But it's not everyday  
a guy has a chance to show a girl fireworks for the first time."_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__Bruce shifted the green teddy bear and a stuffed aardvark into a firmer hold in the  
crook of his arm. Kelli had fortunately decided she preferred riding the rides and  
investigating the show barns to winning contest prizes, or else Bruce feared he would  
be as burdened as some of the other obvious boyfriends he saw around the fair  
grounds. Now as the sun set, though, he steered Kelli - sporting a new state fair  
baseball cap - toward the pavilion._ _

__There was a steady traffic heading toward the open air stands which overlooked the  
Gotham River, and Bruce was mentally considering the remembered layout of the  
stands when he realized Kelli was hanging back, slowing their pace. He stopped._ _

__"Kelli?"_ _

__Her eyes were hidden by the brim of the cap, but a nervous smile played on her lips.  
"Just-" she shrugged._ _

__Bruce caught her arm and pulled her out of the flow of traffic. "We don't have to do  
this, you know," he reminded her gently. _ _

__Kelli tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. "But you made arrangements and-"_ _

__He stopped her protest with a kiss, angling his face past the cap brim. "So we spend  
time together somewhere else, if you want. We don't have to watch the fireworks."_ _

__Kelli's eyes, still closed from the kiss, fluttered open to reveal troubled depths. "I want -  
" She took a deep breath. "I want to do this."_ _

__Bruce studied her face. "Are you sure? It's -"_ _

__Kelli took his free hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "Please. I'll be more upset with  
myself if I had this opportunity and didn't try."_ _

__Bruce nodded. "We'll leave right away if it's too much, okay?"_ _

__"Okay." Kelli's chin jutted out in determination. "Let's go."_ _

__Kelli led the way this time, and Bruce felt a sense of admiration for J'onn. True,  
fireworks did not quite have that open flame quality that would completely unhinge  
him, but he understood the reluctance. What if a stray spark made it to ground and  
started a fire? What if a particular effect was too fiery? J'onn had explained the ways in  
which he had schooled himself to handle the presence of open flame, to avoid an  
extreme reaction to it when in human form. J'onn had regarded that as necessary. The  
idea of watching dancing fire for entertainment? It was like Russian Roulette, the utter  
opposite of "fun" in J'onn's mind._ _

__But humans loved fireworks, and J'onn wanted to be able to understand._ _

__They crossed through the pavilion gates, and Kelli stopped. "Where-?"_ _

__"Lawn seating," Bruce suggested, taking her hand and drawing her after him. He  
already had the spot in mind, near to an exit, not quite prime viewing and therefore  
frequently the last part of the lawn to fill in. Kelli followed him trustingly._ _

__Bruce finally stopped, turning to look across the crowd and over to the opposite bank  
of the river. "We should have brought a blanket," he rued._ _

__"We did," Kelli noted, and he blinked to see she had a blanket folded over her arm. A  
blue blanket of a particular shade..._ _

__Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Zo'ok?"_ _

__Kelli spread the blanket over the ground and settled onto it. "Martian's best friend," she  
remarked, patting the spot beside her._ _

__Bruce sat and set down the bear and the aardvark. Kelli immediately grabbed the  
aardvark and studied it. "I still can't believe they had this."_ _

__"Niche marketing. Doesn't take that much to recalibrate the-"_ _

__Kelli's finger was over his lips. "No Bruce Wayne, businessman," she scolded. She held  
the toy up by her face. "Y'know, I think it kinda looks like me."_ _

__Bruce shook his head and took the aardvark away from her. "No, it doesn't," he said  
firmly, pulling her to him. "You look like you, and nothing else comes close."_ _

__Kelli relaxed unresistingly into his pull, allowing him to wrap his arms around her.  
"Bruce, you say the sweetest things. And don't worry," she added, "I won't report that."_ _

__Bruce hugged her to him and then let her shift around until she was resting her back  
against his chest and gazing out toward the river. _ _

__"When are they going to start?" she asked._ _

__Bruce glanced at the sky. "Probably another 15 minutes. Let it get a little darker."_ _

__Kelli nodded. "That's right. Y'know, I used to spend the first week of July in the  
Amazon to avoid fireworks?"_ _

__"You had to go to the Amazon?"_ _

__"There are Americans everywhere, Bruce. Someone was bound to set off some noise  
and light show to celebrate the fourth. Not in the deep Amazon, though." She  
snuggled back against him, and he held her close. "When I was on the force, I used to  
take the worst duty anyone could come up with rather than work the fireworks show."_ _

__"You don't have to explain," Bruce reminded her. He reached out to remove her  
baseball cap, setting it to one side so he could kiss the top of her head._ _

__She sighed. "I know. I guess-"_ _

__"Shhh," Bruce encouraged, this time kissing her temple. She turned her head, and they  
kissed deeply - deeply enough to trigger a stronger telepathic link between them.  
Bruce could feel the mix of anxiety and excitement thrilling through J'onn, along with  
an odd undercurrent. It was... a desire to be protected? Something close to that, a  
sentiment so utterly foreign to J'onn that Bruce was half-convinced he was  
misinterpreting it. But with that desire was a powerful sense of trust, an unshakable  
faith that Bruce would not allow J'onn to come to harm._ _

__When they finally broke the kiss and met each other's eyes, embarrassment colored  
Kelli's cheeks and she dropped her gaze. "I -"_ _

__"Don't," Bruce cut her off, wrapping his arms still more securely around his lover and  
lowering his face so he was speaking into Kelli's ear. "I'm honored," he whispered._ _

__Kelli said nothing, but she rested her hands on his forearms where they crossed her  
chest, and they sat for a while in silence as the crowd began to fill in around them. Then  
something must have happened, for a cheer arose from those spectators closest to the  
riverbank and spread through the crowd. Kelli stiffened in Bruce's arms and he gave a  
reassuring squeeze._ _

__Music began to swell through speakers planted throughout the pavilion, and a hush fell  
over the crowd as they recognized one of a half dozen pieces of classical music  
traditionally played for fireworks displays. Anticipation built with the opening chords,  
eyes turning skyward as the measure for the first explosion approached._ _

__J'onn could feel that anticipation, Bruce knew, breaking over them like a wave. In his  
arms, Kelli shivered a little, but she kept her gaze focused on the sky..._ _

__BOOM!_ _

__Violet and silver, twisting tangles of sparks stretching down toward the river, shading  
through red and orange on the way down._ _

__The crowd roared approval and Kelli gasped, a sharp "Oh!" escaping her. A mix of  
enchantment and easing fear stretched back to Bruce through their telepathic link._ _

__"It's okay?" he asked her carefully as another series of booms lit the sky._ _

__Another explosion sounded, and blue-green sparks lit faces in sickly colors - but Kelli  
was smiling. "So beautiful," she breathed, pressing her back against Bruce's chest,  
dropping one hand to rest on his thigh._ _

__Bruce nodded, still alert, but relaxing a little. Kelli shuddered with almost every effect,  
her body staying pressed to Bruce's, taking shelter almost. The pressure of her body  
and the emotions and raw excitement zinging through her and touching his mind -  
both forces were proving heady. One of his hands had shifted almost unconsciously to  
cup her breast through her clothes, and he found himself suddenly aware of her scent -  
a mix of sweat and lingering soap and a sweet, berry-like scent in her hair._ _

__"Bruce," she breathed, and he felt her fingers against his thigh, brushing through the  
hairs on his leg, phasing through his jeans as if they weren't even there._ _

__A rapid series of fireworks froze her for a moment, and Bruce leaned down to kiss the  
juncture of neck and shoulder, sucking lightly on the flesh. His lips tingled as he felt  
J'onn stretch out cells, mingling their flesh together for a moment. Bruce shivered as he  
nibbled a line up Kelli's neck to her ear and took her earlobe in his teeth for the space of  
a breath. He felt "Kelli's" fingers thinning against his thigh, slipping down into his  
bloodstream._ _

__Across the river, a sudden series of flame towers spouted up._ _

__Kelli cried out, twisting her body in Bruce's arms, turning to bury her face in his  
shoulder. She didn't withdraw her hand as she moved; in fact, J'onn seemed to pour  
more of his essence into Bruce, drawing a gasp from his lover as they cuddled close._ _

__"It's okay," Bruce soothed. "I've got you. It's okay." He could feel Kelli's face pressed  
against his shoulder, skin to skin, effortlessly ignoring the t-shirt between them. She  
still had a hand on his thigh, and one of her knees brushed against his groin._ _

__He pressed his lips to the top of her head, holding her close, his eyes half focused on the  
fireworks, his body focused on the warmth of Kelli - of J'onn - pressed against him,  
their cells intermingling. The quality of her trembling was changing._ _

__"It's okay," Bruce continued to murmur. "The flames are gone."_ _

__Kelli nodded her face against his shoulder, and he felt her lips mouthing kisses over his  
pectoral muscle. Then she raised her head and peered back out at the night sky. A new  
explosion startled her, sending a surge of J'onn through Bruce's body and drawing a  
low moan from Bruce._ _

__"J'onn," he whispered, his eyes squeezed closed for a moment. Kelli shifted, kissing his  
jaw bone. He leaned down to meet those lips, feeling the booming fireworks above  
them acting as counterpoint to his racing heartbeat._ _

__The delight and energy of the crowd was buoying them, coursing through their joined  
minds to add to the heat flooding between them. J'onn's tangle of fear and wonder  
was tightening in Bruce's stomach as excitement, raw and wild. Their tongues stroked  
together and entangled, and even through closed lids, Bruce could sense the color  
flashing above them._ _

__He pulled away, gasping for air. "J'onn," he said again, running the back of his hand  
over Kelli's cheek but seeing only the Martian shining out from her eyes. Blasts of red  
and blue blossomed in the sky, each explosion sending an involuntary shiver through  
Kelli's flesh - through J'onn, still curling through Bruce's body and passing the shiver  
along. Bruce's eyes fell half closed and he breathed through parted lips, only dimly  
aware of the crowd and sounds around him._ _

__No one would be watching them, he knew, although this feeling of being *touched* so  
publicly created an echo of J'onn's anxious thrill at the fireworks in his own mind. He  
rolled his hips a little, pressing into Kelli, feeling J'onn flooding back into him. _ _

__"You're so beautiful," Kelli said, but her voice was husky, and the intonation was J'onn.  
Just J'onn. Perhaps the only person from whom he could accept the compliment.  
Perhaps the only person who could mean it so completely._ _

__Bruce ran a hand down her shoulder, down her arm, seeking to anchor his wildly  
spinning thoughts, reassert control over his body. The music over the PA penetrated  
his consciousness, and he set his fingers on Kelli's chin, urging her to turn back to the  
sky. "The grand finale," he whispered, pulling her into him and resting his head on her  
shoulder. "Any minute -"_ _

__The sky exploded, the booms overlaying each other almost too fast to distinguish from  
one another. Colors burst through the night sky, strobing over the crowd, creating an  
artificial, multi-color day. The people around them oooohed and ahhhhed at the noise  
and light, and Bruce was lost in it, lost in J'onn, lost in the way J'onn lost himself in him,  
breathless..._ _

__And then the darkness fell again, and Bruce came back into himself. Kelli was curled in  
his arms, contentment almost palpable through her skin. She raised her face to kiss the  
point of his chin. "Who knew Clark had such good ideas?" she asked._ _

__Bruce smiled down at the green eyed beauty in his arms. "You did. But I think in the  
end? I'm the one winning this bet."_ _

__To be continued..._ _

__***********date 26*******************_ _

__Hidden Beauty  
by Chicago_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: PG-13_ _

__A freshly scrubbed Bruce Wayne stepped into the teleporter in the Batcave. It had been  
a long day. He had worked late at Wayne Enterprises without coming appreciably  
closer to a deal with CurrenTech out in Nevada. Finally, stymied by the close of the  
business day in the later time zone and the recalcitrance of CurrenTech's CEO, he had  
given up for the night, hoping patrol would give him opportunity to release some  
energy._ _

__No dice. He and Batgirl had sat surveillance for almost three hours in Tricorner before  
he finally conceded that Rondoval syndicate was not going to move anything or  
anybody anytime soon. At least there was tonight's date to look forward to._ _

__He had been relieved that J'onn's choice for the evening was something relatively low  
key, sparing them both the irritation of paparazzi and freeing Bruce from the effort of  
disguise. He smoothed his sports coat as he activated the teleporter. A romantic dinner  
on the Watchtower observation deck, under the stars. Not the newest of settings, but  
even Clark could not object. Bruce certainly had never had a date there before and had  
rather frowned on the practice when his teammates had so indulged. However,  
tonight was a rare moment, astronomically speaking; the earth, the moon and Mars  
were lined up one right behind the other in a straight line from the sun. True, the dates  
had been limited to "this planet," but so late in the game and on such a special night?  
Clark had agreed to bend the rules._ _

__The usual tingle of teleportation swept through his body, and the Batcave melted away  
to the brighter surround of the Watchtower teleportation area. He stepped down from  
the tube, scanning the room..._ _

__An average looking woman of medium height and build smiled tentatively at him and  
stepped up to meet him. Straight brown hair fell over her forehead in low bangs and  
settled over her shoulders tidily, but without any particular style. Her eyes - green, of  
course - peered at him through wire-framed glasses. She wore a calf-length straight  
skirt and a conservative blouse. Bruce managed to keep his disappointment off his face,  
but he couldn't suppress it quickly enough._ _

__The woman tiptoed and kissed his cheek. "Not what you expected?"_ _

__"Well," Bruce hedged. So she wasn't stunningly beautiful. She was still J'onn._ _

__"Kristin," she introduced herself, shrugging a little. "Kyle helped me design her."_ _

__Bruce felt a flare of jealousy. "Ky-"_ _

__He was hushed by a finger over his lips. "Sketches," Kristin explained soothingly. "Not  
direct suggestion. Come on. I'll explain."_ _

__Bruce set his lips and nodded, following as Kristin led him away from the teleporter and  
toward the lift to the observation deck. She did not move gracefully, although she was  
not ungainly. It was as if she was accustomed to her body rather than comfortable in it.  
Her shoulders were slightly hunched as if to hide her bosom, a habitual stance that  
Bruce recognized as a sign of an early bloomer whose body had raced ahead of her  
psychological readiness to be a woman. He knew something of the type from the  
various offices and labs of Wayne Enterprises: competent and often quite intelligent,  
but neither dangerous nor desirable and hence relatively uninteresting to him beyond  
their instrumental value in their jobs._ _

__There was a moment of awkward silence in the lift, broken when Kristin asked, "So  
how was your day?"_ _

__"Long," he replied, aware that his monosyllable bordered on rude._ _

__Kristin caught his hand and gave it a little squeeze, and the lift doors opened._ _

__Kristin stepped out into the observation deck with a visible sense of relief, and Bruce  
followed her. He paused to take in the scene._ _

__It was impressive, he allowed, noting the centrally placed table draped in flawless linen.  
It was elegantly set with wine chilling to one side. A faux candle provided the only  
light, steady where a flame would have flickered, low enough that the view of the star  
field outside was uncompromised. That view was, of course, breathtaking, and the red  
star that was Mars stood precisely at the apex of the sky._ _

__The shift of a chair drew his eyes back to Kristin, and she again offered her shy smile.  
"Come sit," she encouraged._ _

__Bruce obeyed, unable to get to the table quickly enough to draw Kristin's chair out for  
her. She had already taken her seat and spread her napkin over her lap._ _

__A salad of late greens and vegetables was waiting for him, and as he settled into his  
seat, Kristin poured two glasses of white wine. "Please," she encouraged, "eat."_ _

__Well, the salad looked appetizing enough. He poured a bit of vinaigrette over the  
greens and picked up his sterling salad fork. Kristin's eyes followed as he brought the  
first bite to his lips._ _

__He let his surprise show on his face as he bit into a bit of yellow squash and escarole.  
"This is excellent," he remarked, meaning it. Even the Manor rarely got vegetables so  
very fresh._ _

__Kristin blushed a little and ducked her head, pouring the vinaigrette over her own  
salad. "John Johnstone stopped by the Kents to help with the garden," she explained,  
and after a moment, Bruce clicked to one of J'onn's alter-egos. "Martha insisted on  
sending something home with him."_ _

__Bruce nodded, savoring the salad. Kristin worked through her salad in precise bites,  
occasionally glancing up at Bruce's face._ _

__He swallowed a mouthful of tomato and lettuce and studied her for a moment. "You  
said you would explain," he prompted._ _

__She pushed a bit of salad on her plate, then glanced up at him. "Don't be angry."_ _

__He blinked, feeling suddenly guilty. This was still J'onn, after all, no less his beloved for  
appearing before him in a frumpy form. "I-"_ _

__His reply was cut off by a shake of her head. "It's okay. I just-" She met his eyes  
finally. "Bruce Wayne can have any woman he wants. Sometimes..." she trailed off,  
moving her fork through her salad again._ _

__"Go on," Bruce urged, not certain he wanted to hear this but feeling beholden._ _

__"You like strong, beautiful women. Exceptional women. Confident women."_ _

__He nodded slowly. True enough._ _

__Kristin set down her fork. "Ready for soup?" she asked brightly._ _

__Bruce frowned and reached out to catch her hand. "Kristin," he said warningly._ _

__She twisted free of him. "I just wonder sometimes if you would give an ordinary girl a  
chance," she said too hastily, picking up her plate and his own and disappearing behind  
a Japanese screen set to one side._ _

__Bruce stared after her, stunned._ _

__She returned a moment later, carefully balancing two soup bowls on their plates. She  
set them down, and Bruce noticed her nails were unadorned. Plain. She sat again,  
resettling her napkin on her lap and picking up her soup spoon._ _

__Bruce remained motionless, still watching her. "J'onn?"_ _

__Kristin did not respond, dipping her spoon into her soup and lifting it to lipstick-free  
lips._ _

__Bruce took his own spoon uncertainly, spooned out some broth. Subtle spices played  
across his palate, and again he felt a sense of surprise. He had dined in the best  
restaurants in the world, and Alfred ensured that meals in the Manor were nothing  
short of perfection, but this... "This is wonderful," he complimented._ _

__Kristin shrugged. "I asked Dolphin for her recipe. Some of the sea salts were hard to  
find, but..." she shrugged again, taking another sip of her soup._ _

__"Well, it's delicious," Bruce stated._ _

__Kristin didn't respond, and for a few minutes they ate in silence that for Bruce grew  
increasingly uncomfortable. Finally he set down his spoon and regarded the woman  
across from him. "What did you mean by ordinary girl?" he asked._ _

__Another shrug. "I know you appreciate beauty. I think sometimes, though..."_ _

__"Yes?"_ _

__"Sometimes you don't see beyond surface beauty," Kristin finished reluctantly, setting  
down her own spoon. "I asked Kyle to draw for me a woman hiding inner beauty."_ _

__Bruce blinked. "Hiding... are you saying I'm shallow?" He felt like that should make  
him angry, but instead he was only perplexed._ _

__Kristin shook her head. "No. No, not - obviously-" She sighed. Her hands fiddled with  
the napkin in her lap, and she stared unseeingly into her soup bowl._ _

__Bruce sat back in his chair, puzzling through her words. He understood inner beauty.  
After all, he understood Dick's attraction to Barbara, who was pretty enough in her  
way, but it was really her strength of personality... strength... He thought about his  
early reaction to Kristin, to her hesitance, her "safely conservative" clothes, the way she  
reminded him of other unbeautiful women..._ _

__Kristin quietly rose and took away their bowls. Bruce didn't stop her, disturbed at his  
line of thought. Ordinary girls. Well, J'onn was anything but ordinary, and..._ _

__A new plate was set before him, steaming tantalizingly and making his mouth water in  
unconscious response. The pinks and whites and reds of fresh seafood spilled over a  
bed of pasta, and the savory aroma of a butter sauce cut through his thoughts. "Wow,"  
he commented, studying his plate. He took a careful bite, the al dente pasta  
complimenting perfectly the melt-in-the-mouth sauce. "Is this handmade pasta?"_ _

__Kristin's cheeks colored and she nodded._ _

__Bruce paused and studied her. "You've been cooking all day, haven't you?"_ _

__More color rose in Kristin's face. "Yes," she admitted quietly._ _

__"For me," Bruce stated._ _

__Kristin didn't answer, began quietly to eat._ _

__He watched her, reached across the table to still her hand. "You're right," he said._ _

__She looked up at him with a confused expression._ _

__"I am shallow sometimes."_ _

__She shook her head vigorously. "No. No, you're not. I ... presumed..."_ _

__He was startled when her eyes began to well with tears. "Kristin? J'onn?"_ _

__She continued to shake her head, removing her glasses and bringing her napkin to her  
eyes. "I'm sorry- I-"_ _

__"No," Bruce said firmly, rising and crossing to her side of the table. She raised her eyes  
miserably, and Bruce was surprised at the intensity of their green. He touched her  
cheek. "J'onn?" he asked again._ _

__She tried gamely to smile. "It's my fault. I thought... I was thinking about... well,  
sometimes what a person wants isn't... I thought maybe there were things you wanted  
that you... that you didn't see. That were buried too deeply for me to read. I... I  
wanted..."_ _

__"Shh," Bruce murmured, leaning down and gently pressing his lips to hers. She  
stiffened for a moment, then began to respond. Her body leaned into his, her breasts  
pressing against his chest. It was a... soulful kiss, her heart and being poured into it.  
Bruce broke the contact reluctantly, staring at her with wonder. Her lips were  
reddened from the kiss, her skin still flushed from her earlier tears, her eyes shining..._ _

__He cupped her cheek. "Hiding your beauty," he murmured._ _

__"I'm sorry," Kristin said again, lowering her face._ _

__"Don't be," he answered, nudging her chin up so she met his eyes. "I had a crappy day,  
and I've been taking it out on you."_ _

__She shook her head. "I should've-"_ _

__"No, I should've. Should've lots of things. And right now I'm trying to understand  
some things, like why I've made the most beautiful being in my life cry."_ _

__"Bruce-"_ _

__"Shh. I do want to talk about this. But I also want to eat this glorious pasta you spent  
all day making before it gets cold. And then I want to take that dessert that I'm sure  
you've got hiding behind that screen and find a few cushions and stretch out on the  
floor and feed each other and watch Mars go across the sky."_ _

__Kristin sniffled a final time and put the napkin to her nose, nodding her assent. Bruce  
gave her knee a little squeeze and went back to his place. He wound some pasta on his  
fork. "This really is marvelous. Let me guess. Gypsy? Or maybe someone more  
unlikely. Eel!"_ _

__Kristin laughed a little and put her napkin back in her lap. "No, although Eel does make  
the world's only edible tuna casserole." She reached for her glasses._ _

__"I don't want to know how you know that. Do you need those?" he asked, gesturing  
toward her glasses with his fork. _ _

__Kristin hesitated. "I suppose not. Why?"_ _

__"You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen," he answered sincerely. "I couldn't  
see them before."_ _

__Kristin blushed and set the glasses back on the table. "You flatter me."_ _

__He shook his head. "No, actually. But are you going to tell me where the pasta recipe  
came from?"_ _

__Kristin took a bite of her dinner and chewed thoughtfully. "You'll laugh."_ _

__"No, I won't."_ _

__She looked at him sharply. "Don't tell me you won't, because then you'll have to try to  
keep a straight face, and I like you better when you let yourself laugh."_ _

__Bruce started. "Really?"_ _

__Kristin nodded. "I - I always feel happier when I - you let the weight lift sometimes. I  
know I can't carry it for you but-"_ _

__Bruce considered her for a moment, a rush of love for her - for J'onn - warming him.  
"Okay. If it's funny..."_ _

__She ducked her head, and this time he found the gesture endearing. "Well, it was this  
old lady in Venice, Carmella. She used to take me home-"_ _

__"Take you home?" Bruce interrupted, his eyes narrowing suspiciously._ _

__Kristin laughed. "Not like that. I was a cat." She grinned and took another bite of food._ _

__Bruce stared for a moment. "You were... a cat."_ _

__"Yes. She called me Tomasso and she would feed me scraps as she cooked."_ _

__"A cat. She gave her recipe to a cat?"_ _

__"No, I poached it from her mind."_ _

__Bruce stared incredulously, then began to laugh. "You stole her recipe!"_ _

__"It's good!" Kristin defended, and a lightness showed in her eyes that had not been  
there before. "It tasted a little different when I was a cat, but-"_ _

__Bruce almost choked on the water he had brought to his lips. He sputtered for a  
moment as he brought his napkin to his lips. "Warn a guy!" he protested, his eyes  
smiling._ _

__"I said you would laugh," she pointed out primly, and he noticed that when she smiled  
fully, her face was transformed. He could see her relaxing for the first time all evening,  
the hunch of her shoulders easing. She took a sip of wine, her eyes dancing over the  
rim._ _

__"That you did," he allowed. He raised his own wine glass. "I propose a toast."_ _

__"Oh?"_ _

__"To hidden beauty," he declared, holding his glass out._ _

__She hesitated. "Really?"_ _

__In the glow that the uncertain pleasure brought to her face, Bruce wondered how he  
had ever thought her plain. "Really."_ _

__Their glasses clinked together, and they both drank, finishing their dinner in the easy  
camaraderie that had eluded them before. They retired, then, with a small plate of  
tiramisu and two dainty dessert forks, curling together on cushions Bruce pulled from a  
storage bin. Kristin sighed as she nestled against Bruce's shoulder, her hair fanned over  
his arm. She accepted a bite of the sweet, her eyes fixed on the starscape outside._ _

__"It seems so far away," she said wistfully._ _

__"I know," Bruce said, setting the plate to one side and running his fingers through her  
hair. "Some nights I wish there was a way I could bring it back for you."_ _

__Her eyes remained focused on the sky. "I am sorry about tonight."_ _

__He shook his head. "Don't be." He trailed his hand over her shoulder absently, deep in  
thought. "I've never made you cry before."_ _

__Kristin shrugged dismissively. "Something in the identity. It was... in character."_ _

__Bruce looked at her suspiciously, but he kept his tone light. "Figuring out the female of  
the species?" he asked._ _

__"Something like that," she agreed, moving closer into the circle of his arm._ _

__Her body was soft against his, yielding. Not quite fat, but not muscular, either. Warm.  
Comfortable. He felt a slow burn of desire growing in him. He dropped his head to let  
his lips rest against her shoulder for a moment. "I should not have been disappointed  
when I got here," he said, sincere and contrite._ _

__Another shrug. "You had a bad day. You know what you want and you know I know  
it, so..."_ _

__"No." He brushed his lips across her temple and touched her chin with his hand, urging  
her to meet his eyes. "I didn't know I wanted late season vegetables or soup seasoned  
with rare sea salts or a pasta dish that tastes different to a cat. You know me, and knew  
I would like those things that I had never known before." She watched him earnestly,  
studying the depths of his blue eyes. "And I didn't know-"_ _

__He leaned down, claiming her lips with his own. The sweetness of the tiramisu lingered  
in her mouth, and her tongue yielded to his as it pressed into her mouth. He slowly  
backed away, and she sat for a moment with her eyes still closed and her lips still  
parted._ _

__Finally she opened her eyes and ran her tongue thoughtfully over her own lips. "Did  
you get enough dessert?" she asked._ _

__He gazed into her amazing eyes, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close  
as he kissed her deeply. "No," he whispered, and his fingers began to undo the buttons  
of her blouse. _ _

__She smiled steadily at him, a hand resting softly against the side of his neck as she  
pressed her body against his exploring hand. "I don't think I did either," she breathed,  
and as they kissed again, Bruce realized that he had what he wanted._ _

__To be continued..._ _

__*************date 27********************_ _

__30/30 - Bail  
by Chicago_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: PG-13 (R if you're sensitive to language)_ _

__Nightwing was three blocks from the Clocktower when his earpiece buzzed - not the  
standard comlink ping or even just the unexpected comment over a line presumed  
closed, but a warning type buzz signaling a special incoming message. He paused on  
the corner of 4th and Crescent, opening the line._ _

__"Hello?" he answered gruffly._ _

__He had to give Babs credit; he barely recognized the nasal tone that answered him.  
"You have a collect call from Matches Malone. Do you accept the charges?"_ _

__Dick Grayson gave an internal blink, but his mouth had already gone into cover mode.  
"What the fuck does he want now?"_ _

__"Sir, will you accept the charges?" An impatient and indignant edge came into the nasal  
voice._ _

__"Yeah, yeah, sure. Fucking bum."_ _

__There was a click of a connecting line, then, "Robbie? That you?"_ _

__"Who you think it is, the tooth fairy? What's wrong with you, man - the guys are over  
and-"_ _

__"Need ya to bail me an' my lady out, Rob m'boy. Ran into -"_ _

__"Wh-whoa- wait. Bail you out? What stupid shit you pull now?"_ _

__"Long story. Listen, I'm at central PD headquarters. Cops'll let ya bail me an' Cherry  
out for $500. Ya just gotta-"_ _

__"You think I made of money now? I should let you rot in there, no matter what you  
didn't do to deserve it, man. I got people here and -"_ _

__"Shut up an' listen to me a minute, Rob.. Y'swing by Gert's; she'll front the cash. Ol'  
dame owes me one anyway."_ _

__"She know yer with Cherry?"_ _

__"An' she ain't gonna know, now, is she, Rob?" There was a threatening edge to  
Matches' tone._ _

__Dick waited a beat, then sighed heavily. "Awright, fine. I'll go by Gert's, bail you out.  
Idiot."_ _

__"I heard that."_ _

__"Good." Dick punched the button on his comlink hard, hoping it sounded convincingly  
enough like a slammed receiver. A second later Barbara's voice was in his ear._ _

__"Nice work, Hunk Wonder. I'm embarrassed to know you."_ _

__"Funny, Babs. You know what happened?"_ _

__"Bar brawl, believe it or not."_ _

__Nightwing shot a line across the street, heading away from the Clocktower. "My  
father, the role model."_ _

__"Well, it'll help Matches' rep, anyway."_ _

__"That was tonight's date? C'mon, J'onn, I'll show you how to be a cheap hood?"_ _

__Barbara's laugh was soft in his ear, warming him as he cut through the night air. "I  
suspect J'onn could give Bruce a lesson or two on that front."_ _

__Nightwing landed on a rooftop and sprinted across it, launching off the ledge to tuck  
and spin en route to a lower roof. "This sounds worse. I don't want to imagine them  
one-upping each other. What's up with this 'Cherry' ID?"_ _

__"Pulling the police file... oh, my!"_ _

__"Babs?" Dick dropped into the alley where he had left his car, bouncing from fire escape  
to fire escape to make his descent._ _

__"Cherry Delight."_ _

__Nightwing tapped in the security code for the car as he snorted. "Stripper or hooker?"_ _

__"Oh, no. No, it's way better than that. Although I never in a million years-"_ _

__"What?" The car door opened, and Nightwing slid inside, already peeling off bits of  
costume._ _

__"You'll have to find out yourself, former boy wonder."_ _

__"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," Dick grunted as he squirmed out of his costume  
in the confines of his car and stretched into the back seat for a pair of ratty jeans._ _

__"Oooh," Barbara's voice commented, and Dick glanced over his shoulder to see the vid-  
screen on the dash had cleared to reveal her face. "Nice ass."_ _

__Dick tapped the dash control with his toe. "Peek later. I gotta go rescue dear old dad."_ _

__He could hear the pout in Barbara's voice. "Fine. You got enough cash to hand?"_ _

__Dick twisted to rummage in the glove box. "Yep," he confirmed, pulling a greasy t-shirt  
over his head and then stowing his costume. "I'll swing by after I finish this mission."_ _

__"Can I look at your ass then?" Barbara asked suggestively._ _

__"Only if I can look at yours," Dick shot back. "Nightwing out."_ _

__It was a short drive to GCPD central headquarters; it took longer for "Rob" to find  
parking than it did for him to get there. He rolled the name 'Cherry Delight' over in his  
mind, wondering why it seemed so familiar. Yeah, it was an obvious kind of name for  
a working girl, which would be just the kind of date that would add to Matches'  
credibility - although less a kind of date that Dick expected Bruce and J'onn to go on.  
Something about the name nagged him, though, like he should recognize it  
specifically..._ _

__He shook off that line of thought as he finally heard the start of an engine up the block  
and pulled his car up behind the soon-to-be-vacated spot. Ten minutes later he was  
waiting for the duty officer to bring out Matches and Cherry._ _

__He slouched, practicing his surly act with a little mental prayer to the police gods to  
keep his attitude from karmically counting against him on his next shift. He  
straightened a bit as he saw the cop coming back, then he caught a glimpse of Matches,  
a bloodied towel pressed to his face. "Jesus!" the word exploded out of him. "You  
fucking pigs brutalize him or somethin'?" His eyes darted around the room, aware that  
every officer had come to alert at his outburst. _ _

__Then a hand pressed against his arm and a throaty voice said, "Calm down, Rob. It  
happened during the fight, *before* the police got there."_ _

__He looked down into the earnest green eyes of the blonde who spoke to him and  
suddenly found himself fighting the mother of all blushes. Cherry Delight - he knew  
now why she seemed familiar, and a back corner of his mind was cursing Roy Harper.  
After all, it was Roy Harper who had insisted on a night of pizza and porn as a bonding  
experience for the guys. Without Roy Harper, Dick Grayson would never have known  
about "the Cherry Trilogy" - widely regarded as what Roy had described as "the kind of  
classic erotica the girls won't mind you seeing."_ _

__Dick hadn't tested the theory, not quite convinced that "Helping Hand," "A Question of  
Taste," and "Pop!" were the art-house productions any open-minded lady would find  
enticing. But he had watched them. And he was currently looking right into the eyes  
of the star who..._ _

__...who he knew was really a Martian._ _

__J'onn seemed to allow the recognition before he sent reassurances to Dick's brain. *I  
took over Cherry's identity after she retired from the industry,* he explained. Out  
loud, Cherry said, "C'mon, Rob, let's get out of here." _ _

__Dick hesitated. "Talk to me, Matches. You sure they din't rough you up?"_ _

__Matches lowered the towel, revealing a gash over his left eye still oozing blood. "Ya  
think I let them cop docs touch me?"_ _

__"Get out of here, Malone. We heard enough of your whining," the desk cop remarked._ _

__"Why-"_ _

__"Let's go, Matches," Dick urged, grabbing Bruce's arm and well aware that "Cherry" had  
already headed out the front door. "We gotta get you fixed up."_ _

__Matches glared at "Rob" for a moment, then grinned and pulled a pack of kitchen  
matches out of his pocket, lighting one against his thumb and then pinching it out.  
"Yeah, let's go. I had enough of the stink of this place." He put the unburnt end of the  
matchstick between his teeth as he gave a final grin to the scowling desk cop, then he  
followed "Rob" and "Cherry" out to the street._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__Dick dropped down into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut with a heavy slam.  
"Leslie's?" he asked, glancing at Bruce in the passenger seat._ _

__He got a single positive incline of Bruce's head - no more Matches here, just pure Bat.  
But from the backseat?_ _

__"Yes, please." There was, in Cherry's roughened voice, the exact tone of correction with  
which Alfred occasionally redressed Bruce. Dick looked into the rearview mirror, but  
she had scooted directly behind him, as far from Bruce as she could be within the  
confines of Dick's muscle car. _ _

__"Right," Dick said, turning on the engine and shifting into reverse, craning in his seat as  
he cranked the wheel to the right and began unparking the car. With less than an inch  
clearance he stopped the car and shifted into first, now spinning the wheel all the way  
to the left. He roared out of the parking spot... and no one said a word._ _

__He stopped too short at the end of the block... and no one said a word._ _

__He took a left where he should have taken a right... nothing._ _

__Just an ongoing and intensifying silence._ _

__Dick pulled over and stopped the car, turning in his seat so he could at least see both of  
them. The were in mirror image poses, both staring out the windows on their  
respective sides of the car._ _

__"Stop it!" Dick ordered._ _

__That at least got Bruce's attention. "Dick," he rumbled._ _

__"Look, I'll bail you out of jail. I'll watch your back. I'll help you think of a good cover  
story for that shiner and the stitches you're going to need. But I REFUSE to drive this  
car with you two arguing telepathically."_ _

__"Dick?" Cherry this time, sounding bewildered._ _

__"Don't tell me you're not. If Cassandra were here, she would've complained about the  
way your body language is screaming. If you're going to fight, at least do it out loud."_ _

__"Dick," Bruce - or the Bat dressed as Matches - warned, but Dick heard Cherry's words._ _

__"You didn't need to start that fight."_ _

__Dick blinked, and Batman glared at the blonde in the backseat. "Wait. MATCHES  
started the brawl?"_ _

__"You didn't hear what he said," Batman defended, his eyes storming._ _

__"I did," Cherry corrected, "the gist of it anyway. He didn't mean any harm."_ _

__Batman's - Matches' - hands were clenching into fists, and a new trickle of blood ran  
down from his split brow. "He was asking if you had - it was none of his business."_ _

__"And that was a reason to hit him?" Cherry challenged him, her chin jutting defiantly._ _

__"I didn't hit him hard." That was a Bruce response; Dick recognized a hint of petulant  
billionaire in the tone._ _

__"You knocked him through the men's room door and into the bar!" Cherry  
contradicted,_ _

__"Whoa!" Dick interrupted. "Damn, Bruce, what did he -"_ _

__"Language, Dick."_ _

__Dick shot a look back at Cherry - at J'onn - then returned his attention to Bruce. "I don't  
think my language is the worst of your problems right now."_ _

__"It's an argument I can win," Bruce snapped back, turning his face back toward the car  
window and pressing the towel in his hand against his seeping wound. "Let's just get to  
the clinic."_ _

__Dick looked uncertainly back at Cherry and was surprised to see her scooting into the  
middle of the seat, reaching forward to touch Bruce's shoulder. Bruce jerked away  
from her, and Dick saw a sort of exasperation in her eyes. "Go on, Dick," she urged._ _

__Dick shook his head and put the car back into gear, this time aiming for the fastest,  
most direct route to Leslie's clinic. The comlink came alive in the console as he drove,  
and Oracle's filtered voice filled the stillness of the car. "So how are our jailbirds?" she  
asked._ _

__Dick caught the scowl that flitted across Bruce's face and managed to deflect his jab  
toward the cut off button. "My car," Dick pointed out. "Oracle, this is not a good time."_ _

__Any levity in Oracle's synthesized tone was immediately quashed. "Got it. Call me  
when you are back on patrol. Oracle out."_ _

__Cherry, still sitting in the middle of the back seat, tilted her head and met Dick's eyes in  
the rearview mirror. "We're interrupting your plans," she stated._ _

__Dick offered a smile back. "No, no more than the average Gotham riff-raff." He could  
see Bruce's snarl reflected in the passenger window, but he ignored it. "Besides, it's not  
every day I get to rescue a movie star."_ _

__"That's enough, Dick," Bruce cut in._ _

__"Bruce," Cherry said sternly, "you KNEW Cherry's past before we decided to go out  
tonight."_ _

__Bruce scowled. "That was her PAST. Before she was... well, you."_ _

__"It's still a part of this identity, Bruce. It shaped Cherry's work. Without it she wouldn't  
have been so desperate to stay alive."_ _

__"Stay alive?" Dick asked curiously, ignoring the sour expression on Bruce's face._ _

__"Cherry died while she was launching Project Pleiades." Cherry's voice was softening  
and deepening into J'onn's intonation. _ _

__"That's the organization that helped advocate for more precise laws for the adult film  
industry, right? Helped educate the consumer and retail markets to force some of the  
seedier fly-by-night guys out of business."_ _

__"Yes," J'onn agreed, sounding impressed. "You know -?"_ _

__"Cop work," Dick explained, with a quick glance at Bruce. His face was still turned  
away, but Dick was sure he was listening closely. "Guys in vice mentioned it made their  
work easier."_ _

__J'onn - Cherry - nodded, and Cherry's voice reasserted itself. "The Project was in a  
delicate spot when she died; her sponsorship was crucial if it was going to succeed. It  
cost me little to step in for her, to make a promise that would ease her passing."_ _

__Dick considered for a moment. "Are all your identities like that? Real people, I mean."_ _

__"Most of them. Lives ended too soon. Good people."_ _

__Dick noticed that Cherry's hand had once again found its way to Bruce's shoulder, and  
this time Bruce let it stay there._ _

__"Cherry was proud of her work," J'onn continued, now talking more to Bruce than to  
Dick. "It was... respectful. Celebratory."_ _

__Bruce made no reply, and silence fell again. After a few moments, Dick pulled in in  
front of the Gotham Free Clinic. He set the parking brake and turned off the engine.  
"All's ashore that's going ashore," he announced._ _

__Cherry and Matches both exited, and after a moment, Dick followed. They eschewed  
the front doors in favor of a side entrance, and Leslie answered herself almost as soon  
as they buzzed. Barbara, Dick realized. She had undoubtedly figured out that the route  
Dick was taking was leading here and had called ahead._ _

__"Matches Malone, what have you done now?" Leslie scolded, ushering him into the  
building. "Please don't tell me you got into mischief in the company of this lovely lady."_ _

__A sullen expression showed on Matches' face as Leslie waited for Cherry and Dick to  
enter and closed the door behind them. "Don't scowl like that, just head into exam one  
and I'll be there in a minute."_ _

__Matches - Bruce - wordlessly obeyed, and Leslie turned her attention to Cherry. "Miss  
Delight, it is lovely to meet you."_ _

__Dick managed - just - not to let his jaw drop open. "You know her?" he asked,  
incredulous._ _

__Leslie smiled knowingly at Cherry. "Of course. I'm a big fan."_ _

__Cherry - J'onn - chuckled and accepted Leslie's handshake. "I am honored. And you do  
realize-"_ _

__"Naturally. You'll have to explain this one to me sometime."_ _

__"We'll have tea."_ _

__"Agreed. Now let me deal with your other half. Rob, you'll keep Miss Delight  
company?"_ _

__Dick felt more like fleeing the scene, still processing Leslie's words, *I'm a big fan.*  
Nope, he definitely didn't want to think about it. But he nonetheless forced his mouth  
to work. "Umm, sure."_ _

__"Good. I'll have Matches stitched up in a flash." Leslie turned and disappeared down  
the corridor that Matches had proceeded down only a moment earlier._ _

__"C'mon, Rob," Cherry suggested, leading him toward the chairs near the side door._ _

__Dick followed her numbly and took a seat. After a moment he said, "No offense, J'onn,  
but I'm not sure I'm crazy about this identity."_ _

__Cherry laughed. "Like father, like son."_ _

__Dick shook his head. "I don't think I'd start a brawl over it, but -"_ _

__A snort sounded from the blonde beside him. "Stubborn protective jerk."_ _

__Dick blinked. "You're still mad at him?"_ _

__"Of course I'm mad at him," Cherry replied. "It was a stupid thing to do." She paused  
for a moment, and a wistful expression appeared on her face. "It was also unbearably  
sweet."_ _

__"Sweet," Dick repeated flatly._ _

__"Well, yes. Defending my honor, insisting that the others respect me - very chivalrous."_ _

__"But you're still pissed at him."_ _

__"Language, Dick," Cherry said primly, but there was a definite sense of humor behind  
her echo of Bruce's - Matches' - earlier correction. "And yes, he's still a stubborn jerk."_ _

__Dick released the breath he had drawn in to protest Cherry's chiding and stared at  
disguised Martian. "J'onn, don't take this the wrong way, but you are talking like a  
woman."_ _

__Beside him, Cherry Delight ducked her head a little with a hint of a pleased smile, her  
eyes sliding coyly up toward him. "I've been practicing," she confessed._ _

__Dick froze and closed his eyes. He knew enough about actors to know that their  
habitual gestures occasionally showed up in their work. There was no way J'onn had  
intentionally invoked the gesture and tagline that had so famously attached to Cherry  
Delight's film ego. But there was also no denying that his father's lover had just  
perfectly delivered from a porn star's mouth the exact words that had been uttered  
when Cherry's oral skills had been amply demonstrated on screen. _ _

__"Rob?" Cherry's voice was asking. Then, "Dick?"_ _

__Dick shook his head to clear it and stood, opening his eyes. He looked at Cherry and  
forced himself to see J'onn sitting there. Then he squatted in front of her and met her  
eyes earnestly, resting a hand on her knee. "J'onn, you know I care about you and  
about Bruce and I'd support you guys whenever you need it. But right now-"_ _

__Cherry - no, not quite Cherry, because J'onn had altered her features a bit and let his  
own eyes shine out of her face - brushed her fingers over his hair as if he were a school  
boy and smiled sympathetically. "A little too weird, isn't it?"_ _

__Dick nodded. "Leslie's going to be mad at me, but I just really need to bail. You - you'll  
be okay waiting here?"_ _

__A warm laugh escaped J'onn. "I could probably protect the whole neighborhood if it  
came to it," his female voice reminded Dick._ _

__"I meant you won't be too lonely," Dick clarified pointedly, earning another smile that  
seemed to radiate from J'onn's eyes._ _

__"You are your father's son," J'onn said. "I'll be fine. Give my best to Barbara."_ _

__Dick watched J'onn's disguised features earnestly for a moment, then stood, fishing into  
his pocket. "I can leave the car-"_ _

__J'onn shook Cherry's head. "No, we'll manage something. Thank you for your help  
tonight."_ _

__Dick smiled crookedly. "Just part of the job. Say goodbye to Leslie and Bruce for me?"_ _

__"Of course."_ _

__Dick glanced around the hall nervously one more time, then exited the side door with a  
profound feeling of relief. He was SO ready to get back to the Clocktower and put this  
night behind him._ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__Dick had only been gone about ten minutes when Bruce Wayne emerged from the  
treatment area, the Matches Malone face discarded and a tidy bandage over his left eye.  
"Where's Dick?" he asked._ _

__J'onn - still wearing Cherry's form - stretched and rose to her feet, tiptoeing to kiss  
Bruce's cheek. "I think we traumatized him enough for one night. I sent him home."_ _

__"Bruce, here's a couple extra chemical ice packs," Leslie was saying as she came down  
the hall. "I'll just add it to your tab. Where'd Dick-?"_ _

__"I sent him home," Cherry repeated. "And Bruce, don't forget you owe him $500."_ _

__"So does this mean you two will be staying downstairs tonight, or-"_ _

__Bruce glanced at Cherry, who shrugged. "Maybe we will," he decided. "Leslie, thank  
you as always."_ _

__"Yes," Cherry added, "we can't thank you enough-"_ _

__"Posh," Leslie interrupted. "You two go crash. I'll call Alfred to let him know you're  
here. And," she continued in a lecturing tone, "I don't want to hear anymore about  
Matches starting bar brawls."_ _

__"Yes, Leslie," Bruce acknowledged meekly, wrapping his arm around Cherry's waist.  
"Good night."_ _

__"Good night," she replied, heading down another hallway as Bruce led Cherry to a  
broom closet with an elevator._ _

__Neither Bruce nor Cherry said anything as they descended into the hidden sub-  
basement of Leslie's clinic. Bruce finally broke the silence as he palm-keyed the door to  
one of the Bat's mini-lairs. "Not quite the Manor, but-"_ _

__His words were interrupted as Cherry claimed his lips, her tongue softly probing the  
swelling bruise on the right corner of Bruce's mouth before slipping between his lips.  
When they parted a moment later, Bruce smiled down at her. "Am I forgiven, then?"_ _

__"I'm still thinking about it," Cherry revealed. "And I think Lavender's book is going to  
have to be published."_ _

__"Oh?" Bruce wrapped his arms around Cherry, his hands loosely clasped against the  
small of her back._ _

__"Yes," Cherry stated, her fingers tracing patterns against Bruce's chest. "I had no idea  
your jealous streak ran so deep."_ _

__Bruce tightened his arms, fighting the urge to defend his action._ _

__It was the right move, for Cherry smiled at him and reached up to touch his cheek.  
"You're so sweet, Bruce." Then she tiptoed, drawing his head down to whisper to him,  
"I was wondering if you wanted to try-" Her voice dropped even lower, and she  
described exactly the act which had been mentioned once before that evening - and had  
started the brawl at the bar._ _

__A deep flush colored Bruce's cheeks as he listened to Cherry's lips describe..._ _

__He held her more tightly, letting her feel what her words were doing to his body.  
"Yes," he breathed. "Oh, yes," he added more emphatically as Cherry's hands began to  
move._ _

__Cherry smiled and led him to the bed._ _

__To be continued..._ _

__************date 28*******************_ _

__30/30: Want  
by Hotspur_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: NC-17_ _

__The bass was almost sub-atmospheric, cranked loud enough that it was little more than  
an all over vibration, felt through the bar stool he sat on - hell, through the bar itself.  
He wasn't sure how it quite qualified as music._ _

__The lighting was no better, dark but punctuated by strobes and laser effects that  
skewed the perceptions._ _

__Uncomfortable._ _

__Almost as uncomfortable as the tight hug of leather to his skin, form fitting, but not in  
the same way as the kevlar weave that was built to give and stretch with him. More...  
displaying then protecting._ _

__Neither he nor J'onn had been entirely sure whose ideal date this was, but it was ...  
different. Almost desperate in its anonymity, both in terms of the poster and the  
scenario. Bruce had instantly reacted to cross it off the list, but something made him  
hesitate just a split second - and J'onn had seen the hesitation._ _

__So Bruce Wayne had concocted a disguise - a subtle one. An old scar across the chin -  
rakish rather than deforming. A bit of added height to the cheek bones. A rougher,  
more devil-may-care hairstyle. Colored contacts, shading blue eyes to a dark grey._ _

__He'd put on the leather pants - sans underwear - and tucked the white T-shirt into  
them. He'd thrown a black biker jacket over the ensemble and taken one of his less  
noteworthy bikes into the city - to this... place._ _

__He could feel the eyes on him the moment he entered, appraising, hungry. Somewhere  
among them were the eyes he wanted to see, but they hadn't shown themselves yet._ _

__So now he sat at the bar, sipping at a coke that had earned him a look but not a  
comment from the bartender. He tendered a five for the two dollar drink and told the  
man to keep the change. A lithe young man, bare-chested but for a leather harness,  
had watched the exchange with sudden interest and began to move toward him._ _

__Bruce gave a Bat glare, and the man changed course as if he'd been heading elsewhere  
anyway._ _

__A sudden cloying scent of perfume enfolded him and a footstep half-muffled by the  
throbbing bass was heard too late to prevent the sudden rest of a chin on his shoulder.  
Blonde curls twisted around a dreamy eyed face as an arm snaked around his body, a  
hand found its way to his lap._ _

__The hand gave a squeeze and Bruce hooked a finger into the studded collar around the  
woman's neck. "Not interested," he growled, drawing some startled semblance of  
awareness briefly into distant eyes. _ _

__But only for a flash, because then she was back in her daze. "Okay, sugar," she agreed  
easily, letting him go._ _

__He tried to force his shoulders to relax, to pretend that he belonged there._ _

__He ordered another coke._ _

__The bartender supplied with due speed, alert to the half raise of Bruce's hand._ _

__What made someone want this, Bruce wondered? The air was heavy, almost  
unbreathable. Somewhere in the dark he was sure there were drugs changing hands,  
favors being purchased. Nothing overt. Nothing quite to catch the Bat's radar. But he  
was sure it was happening._ _

__And the noise, the lights. The *hunger.* The knot between his shoulders grew tighter._ _

__A touch of fingers at his wrist, trailing up his arm, across his shoulders, down the other  
side. Long, red nails applying just enough pressure to suggest things they *could* do  
but weren't. He caught the pale hand as it traveled past, locking his fingers around the  
wrist._ _

__A sudden _soto_ move, and he was half pulled off his bar stool, his balance shaken. He  
looked up into pale - so pale - green eyes as blood red lips leaned toward his ear. "So  
you want to play rough?"_ _

__He swallowed hard, aware of the sudden rush of blood to his groin. What if this wasn't  
\- no, it had to be. The balance as she moved, the strength - it didn't quite add up to  
human._ _

__She drew him forward, and he felt teeth on his ear, nipping hard enough to hurt a little.  
"I have a booth," she whispered._ _

__Then she was moving ahead of him, leading him forward in a daze. This wasn't - there  
\- J'onn wasn't like this. Ordering, imperious. There had been something in those eyes..._ _

__The press of people seemed to part before her, and he felt the stares. He could feel the  
way they wanted him, wanted her..._ _

__He almost ran into her when she stopped, the blood pounding in his ears enough to  
distract him from everything else. It even canceled out the music. He caught himself  
just in time, found himself staring down at the long length of straight black hair, sleekly  
polished. He leaned forward to catch the mingled scents of patchouli and sandalwood...  
and Mars._ _

__She turned and caught him by the throat, slim fingers spanning just above his collar  
bone, pressing just enough to make him *feel* the danger. "Sit," she hissed, steering  
him back until his knees hit the edge of something and his legs folded._ _

__He wanted to protest, object that this wasn't - but he could feel the blood surging in his  
cock, and it was so hard to swallow..._ _

__Her red lips descended, claiming his roughly, tongue forcing open his mouth. Her hair  
draped over both their faces, sealing them into a darkness that was just heat of their  
mouths and the sudden bite of her teeth on his lower lip. She was pushing him back  
deeper along what he realized was just a standard restaurant booth, but the lights, the  
music, the dark..._ _

__His back was against the wall, the back of the booth on one side, the table on the other,  
and in front of him, forcing his shoulders against the plaster..._ _

__He gasped suddenly as her weight pulled away, his eyes opening in surprise. He licked  
his lips and tasted copper, startling, confusing his muddled senses for that he didn't feel  
any pain behind the blood. He shook his head, trying to reclaim his mental acuity, to..._ _

__Oh!_ _

__Below the table, his knees were pushed apart, making space for the heat of a body. The  
soft cotton of the T-shirt caressed his skin as it was pulled from waistband of the now  
much too tight pants, and in the wake of that caress came the raking pressure of sharp  
nails._ _

__Bruce sucked in his breath. "Wait-" he began, desperate, torn between churning anxiety  
and something more feral. It wasn't like this with J'onn. "Wait -" he tried again, his  
brain scrambling to find a name to call the woman kneeling between his legs._ _

__The button on his pants was undone, the zip pulled slowly down. "You want this," her  
voice curled up to him, somehow cutting through the music and the haze._ _

__"No-" he started to protest, but then her nails found the faint scars on his side, four  
evenly spaced cuts, old, invisible unless you knew where to look..._ _

__She traced them with just enough pressure to leave a burning trail in the wake of each  
nail, to revive the memory of Selina Kyle... a rooftop... years ago..._ _

__"You want this," she repeated, and her hands spread open the leather that had shielded  
his cock, exposing him to the heat of her breath._ _

__He gasped, feeling two fingers slide down along side his cock to hook under his balls, to  
pull them free from the constricting leather. The zipper bit into the underside of his  
sack, but somehow that only made him harder as a tongue lathed across each testicle in  
turn. Then there was suction, and she claimed first one ball and then the other,  
working each in the heat of her mouth, letting her teeth scrape across them to remind  
him of her power - and her restraint._ _

__He raised his hips involuntarily, and the pants were whisked down to his thighs,  
trapping his legs. He squirmed a little, and a hand squeezed around his cock, freezing  
him._ _

__He could feel the edges of her nails digging slightly into his flesh._ _

__"You want this," she said again, and before he could object he felt her swallow his cock._ _

__He wanted to scream, to tell her to stop, that she was wrong. He wanted to scream  
because her mouth and throat were undulating along every molecule of his cock, and  
he had no control over it, and he *wanted* it._ _

__God, he wanted it._ _

__His hands fisted at his sides, refusing to touch her, to encourage that mouth and ... oh  
god... that *tongue*... which no human could've sent to roll his balls while still  
maintaining such a hold on his cock._ _

__Another tongue, slenderer..._ _

__Oh god..._ _

__Flicking across the skin under his balls..._ _

__Slipping between the cheeks of his ass..._ _

__"No," he moaned through clenched teeth, wanting, god, wanting to feel..._ _

__Her hands caught his wrists, pushing them back against the seat back, pinning them.  
She leaned her weight forward so his knees were held down by her arms._ _

__Her mouth continued its steady massage of his cock, his balls were palmed and bathed  
and cradled._ _

__He strained forward with what little leverage he had, unable to really buck his hips  
where he sat, unable not to._ _

__He hadn't wanted to touch her; now he couldn't. He could just feel her, wrapped  
around his cock, fondling his balls..._ _

__Sliding a thin slick digit into his asshole..._ _

__He felt her purr deep in her throat, the vibration traveling through his cock, through  
his balls..._ _

__Through the probing digit that brushed suddenly across his prostate, setting every  
nerve on fire..._ _

__He gasped and the grip on his wrists tightened fiercely, painfully, and a voice echoed in  
his head. "Now."_ _

__He didn't want to. He didn't. He wouldn't let... couldn't let... he was in control... he  
was... _ _

__He was coming, just as she ordered, exploding into her throat as she stroked slowly  
over his prostate and swallowed his cock impossibly deeper._ _

__Blood rushed through his skull as he forgot to breathe, forgot to move, forgot  
everything but the pressure at his wrists and around his cock and in his ass. His  
perception greyed at the edges, and he was dimly aware of withdrawal._ _

__Gentle kisses replaced harsh commands. His hands were lying limp at his sides._ _

__He could feel the bass beat of the music..._ _

__The club. He opened his eyes in alarm. He had forgotten they were in the club..._ _

__It took him a moment to focus, to breathe. He scanned the crowd crazily, but no one  
was paying any attention to him. _ _

__Correction._ _

__A soft, out of character smile was playing on the lips of the woman who had just  
ravaged him. He realized he had been reclothed, settled back into his pants, his shirt  
tucked back in. Had he passed out? Or was this woman just so adept..._ _

__She brushed the backs of her fingers over his cheek, letting the satin smoothness of the  
surface of her nails tingle across his skin._ _

__"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her pale green eyes lit with something far less  
predatory than they had been only moments before._ _

__He swallowed hard and nodded, not trusting his voice. He could feel the way his eyes  
were staring desperately at her, begging reassurance._ _

__She gently stroked at his hair. "You want to go home?" she asked._ _

__Again he nodded, wanting her to hold him. Just hold him._ _

__Her arms pulled him forward, wrapping him gently to her breasts, letting his cheek rest  
against her half revealed bosom. He closed his eyes, and he felt her wrap more  
securely around him._ _

__She rocked him for a moment, then urged him up. She took his hand again and led him  
out, out past the hungry eyes, past the desperate passes and lonely looks. He couldn't  
feel them anymore, only her. Just her hand, anchoring him. In control._ _

__He wanted this._ _

__To be continued..._ _

__*********date 29*************_ _

__30/30: Jazz  
by Chicago (w/help from StarStorm)_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: G_ _

__He became aware of a *presence* on the rooftop with him. Silent in approach, but...  
respectful. A soft mental touch to gradually alert him._ _

__"Yes, J'onn?" he asked, not taking his eyes from the warehouse below._ _

__"Company?" the Martian asked quietly. Hesitantly? Hard to read sometimes._ _

__Batman tucked his binoculars into his belt and shot out a jumpline._ _

__J'onn followed._ _

__Not Martian Manhunter, Batman noted. The Bronze Wraith. Unusual for him to pull  
an identity out of retirement._ _

__Batman slipped through a loading dock door into an old factory, picking the lock in five  
seconds. Starlite lenses gathered ambient light, freed him from the need for a flashlight.  
He moved ninja quiet, softer than a breeze and purposefully swift. He could neither  
see nor hear the ghostly shadow of his lover trailing after him, but he knew he was  
there._ _

__Batman's fingers planted tracers unobtrusively on various pieces of equipment, moving  
unerringly to those he wished to follow. The master detective at work, no activity in  
his city allowed to go unmonitored. Uncontrolled._ _

__He exited through an alley fire escape and made his way back to the rooftops.  
Standard patrol for the next several blocks, then a stake out of the Pour House if all was  
quiet._ _

__Which, as it happened, it was._ _

__The Bat settled outside the sometime contact point for out of town thugs looking for  
work, watching from the roof across the way._ _

__The Bronze Wraith settled in his "dead spot," behind and to Batman's left, the traditional  
weak point of a samurai's defense. The place of a student or apprentice to be a bodily  
shield more than out of harm's way. A submissive position._ _

__Batman ignored him, staring fixedly at the Pour House entrance._ _

__Time passed. He listened as Oracle and Batgirl coordinated against a serial mugger and  
brought him down. He heard Nightwing call in to report he would be staying in the  
'Haven. He noted that Robin had run an abbreviated patrol, heading in early with an  
explanation of homework overload and college applications._ _

__No one suspicious had entered or left the Pour House._ _

__It was only 10:39._ _

__Behind him, there was a rustle of fabric, a conscious warning. A second later he felt  
J'onn's hand on his shoulder._ _

__He stiffened a little._ _

__J'onn gave a careful squeeze. "Only two more nights," he said softly._ _

__"Enough is enough," Batman growled, his voice quiet and low in his throat._ _

__J'onn's hand tightened a little more, and Batman felt dry Martian flesh against his skin,  
the contact flooding him with awareness of J'onn's sense of regret and apology, of  
something - fearful? - in his lover._ _

__The unclear emotion had almost a taste, and Batman felt himself rolling it in his mouth,  
trying to understand the occasionally unfathomable Martian. Their last date had been...  
unsettling. Intense. Not entirely unwanted and more troubling for that Bruce had  
wanted it in the moment. He had not considered that J'onn might also be disturbed by  
it._ _

__The hand at his shoulder slowly withdrew, leaving behind a memory of the contact like  
an ache. They needed to finish out the 30 dates, Batman realized - at the very least  
move past what they had faced in themselves and each other last night._ _

__He closed his eyes and gathered himself for a moment before turning to face J'onn, still  
wearing the aspect of the Bronze Wraith. He gazed at him for a moment, their  
impassive expressions hiding a maelstrom of emotions on both sides, he was certain.  
"Where?" he asked finally._ _

__One acknowledging nod from the Bronze Wraith, and then they were off across the  
rooftops again, this time with J'onn in the lead._ _

__He realized their destination as they entered the Rosehill neighborhood, half-startled to  
discover they were following a route that they had traveled before - 16 years ago. He  
wondered for a moment whether the choice was deliberate, or if J'onn knew only this  
round about approach to the place they were headed. He suspected the latter, and he  
realized that had been the last time he had seen the Bronze Wraith._ _

__Batman had been young then, just starting his mission. He rarely considered how bare  
bones his operation had been then, before Dick had joined his crusade. Only the  
ignorance of youth had seen him through those early years, an unconsciousness of  
what could not be done had allowed him to defy the impossible. He knew no other  
responsibility, throwing himself at the streets night after night, setting patterns that  
would define him in time._ _

__He had been terribly lonely._ _

__Then he had had a romantic attachment to his loneliness, understanding it as part of his  
mission. He cultivated cool distances between himself and others, embracing his  
isolation so completely that he had been oblivious to how it was informing his  
decisions. He knew now how that loneliness had invited Dick Grayson into his life  
when he himself had been younger than Dick was now. He understood now that that  
loneliness was what an old jazz musician had seen in him when he invited him to the  
club he and J'onn were returning to._ _

__If the same circumstances arose now, would he do what he had done then, he  
wondered? He had accepted the invitation in the persona to which it had been offered -  
as Batman. The club patrons had closed ranks when he appeared, until a word from the  
old man dissolved their opposition, if not their distrust. He was brought in, seated at a  
dark table..._ _

__How much he didn't know then, twenty-two years old, self-proclaimed guardian of  
Gotham! His world travels had been in search of training, not culture. He had been  
harsh on himself when his discipline had wavered - in Prague and in Rio de Janeiro -  
and had returned to his labors with ascetic rigidity._ _

__He had never listened to jazz._ _

__That night had been startling, eye opening, and it had belonged to the Bat rather than  
to Bruce Wayne. The walk of the bass, the wail of the trumpet, the reedy call of the  
clarinet - all found an answering beat in the heart of the Batman, who knew the night as  
the music did. He had surprised Alfred the next day by installing a stereo system in the  
Cave, letting saxophone and syncopated drum beats form the backdrop to his training,  
to his research._ _

__But it wasn't the same._ _

__He was drawn back to the club every so often, usually listening from the roof, on rare  
occasion going in. The music haunted him, spoke to his soul in a way little else had. He  
found himself yearning to *share* it, and the loneliness had flared then into an ache._ _

__The newly formed Justice League visited Gotham around that time, and loneliness  
became a virtue as a territorial instinct rose in him. They were brash and flashy and on  
some level he had resented their easy powers and fledgling camaraderie. He had been  
relieved when then finished their publicity junket and moved on, freeing him from the  
need to teach them who owned Gotham's streets in a fight he wasn't sure he was ready  
for._ _

__Only one of them hadn't left._ _

__The Bronze Wraith was waiting for him now on the rooftop across from the club. He  
landed lightly beside him. "This isn't new," Batman pointed out quietly._ _

__"One of Nightwing's suggestions," J'onn answered. "Go someplace you went before  
you were dating."_ _

__Of course, Batman thought, the idea would occur to Dick, even outside the context of  
Kal's challenge. Dick's relationship with Barbara was about rediscovery._ _

__He remembered that long ago night, finding the Bronze Wraith on his rooftops._ _

__//"This is my city,"// he had said, echoing the first words he had ever said to J'onn,  
some six months earlier._ _

__//"I know,"// J'onn had answered. //"The League will not interfere."//_ _

__//"So why are you here?"// Batman had challenged, angered that the League had been  
there at all, had attracted a battle earlier in the day._ _

__The Bronze Wraith - J'onn - had looked at him then, mutely, the eyes behind his mask  
speaking to Batman's loneliness, echoing it. _ _

__Batman had no good explanation for why the trust he had withheld on their first  
meeting flowed so easily in that moment. He had already learned to distrust his gut  
reactions when confronting people unknown to him; villains like Poison Ivy had  
demonstrated all too well how instinct could be made to betray. But the haunted  
loneliness in J'onn's eyes had not been directed, had not sought to find a companion in  
Bruce Wayne. It had recognized something in *Batman*, and Batman in his turn had  
felt kinship with it. //"Come,"// he had said then, and he repeated the command now._ _

__"Come."_ _

__He dropped off the rooftop and approached the entrance to the club, knowing the  
Bronze Wraith was only a step behind._ _

__The old musician who had made that first invitation was long dead, but Batman had  
been back over the years. Occasionally the night would draw him back to the club  
where no one questioned his arrival, where the same table seemed always to be free.  
The doorman was not a man Batman had seen before, but he seemed undisturbed to  
find the shadow of the Bat looming over him. "He with you?" he asked, nodding past  
Batman to the Bronze Wraith._ _

__"Yes."_ _

__Another nod. "No cover," he said. "Go on in."_ _

__They did, and the dark, candleless table in the corner was waiting._ _

__The band was playing Ellington's "In a Sentimental Mood," the piano evoking rainy  
evenings as the bass roamed familiar city streets. Glasses of water appeared on the  
table in front of them, but beyond that they were let alone._ _

__The saxophonist began to weave mellow tones through the smoky air._ _

__Under the table, J'onn's knee just touched the side of Batman's thigh._ _

__They were silent, just as they had been all those years ago._ _

__There had been a difference, though. Batman remembered his own sense of pride and  
... excitement ... in showing this corner of his world to someone new, someone whom  
he believed would understand._ _

__And J'onn - his awe had been palpable, as had been his yearning. Batman had been  
pleased that he had gauged correctly, and also scared, although he hadn't admitted to  
himself until now. He had not been prepared to see how his own loneliness was a pale  
shadow in the face of what J'onn felt. From within the darkness of his own loss, he had  
not entertained how someone else's loss could be greater. The jazz had unlocked  
something in J'onn just as it had in Batman, and that unlocking had revealed how very  
deep and wide the chasm between them must be._ _

__It had not occurred to Bruce how startling, how daunting it must have been for J'onn,  
to release some of that hurt into the music. He had not known then how much control  
the Martian normally exerted over his feelings._ _

__He knew now, and he knew that the ensuing years had closed the chasm between  
them. The world had taught Batman about those deeper losses - the loss of a child, the  
loss of teammates, the loss of love. But it had also taught J'onn to open himself to his  
adopted home, to trust again, to reach out._ _

__He reached out now, the Bronze Wraith's hand finding Batman's under the table,  
twining fingers together._ _

__The band began a Coltrane song._ _

__The jazz still evoked the lonely._ _

__But now, Batman recognized, it also evoked the love._ _

__To be continued..._ _

__*********date 30*************_ _

__30/30 - Start Back to One  
by Darklady and Chicago_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: R_ _

__Monitor duty was blessedly slow. Either the forces of chaos had decided to take the day  
off or - more likely - they were just resting up for the next round. In either case - the  
planet in the middle of the monitor screen was... not untroubled - no planet of umpteen  
billion people even managed untroubled - but at least currently unafflicted by any  
disaster which would justify calling out the JLA._ _

__Even Batman had non-verbally conceded the point, having propped Bruce Wayne's  
never-ending pile of business reports on top of the keyboard._ _

__Green Lantern was also reading - although from his feet-up posture the topic was  
decidedly less grim._ _

__"Here's a good one." Kyle tapped a button - sending the printer nearest the Bat into a  
discreet whirl. "Skiing."_ _

__Batman picked up the sheet without comment._ _

__Kyle clicked off his screen. "I took Jade to Sun Valley last year. Stayed at the old Lodge.  
Wonderful weekend."_ _

__"Really?"_ _

__"Definitely recommended." " Kyle continued - undeterred by chill response. He was -  
after all - without fear. "Perfect powder all day, and afterwards you can snuggle in front  
of the roaring... Oops..." Right, Kyle remembered. Martians. Fire. Not good. "Or maybe  
not."_ _

__The silence thickened as Batman stared unwaveringly at the situation screen. "What else  
have they got?"_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__He could definitely feel the altitude as he finally crested the forested rise and set his skis  
back parallel for the more level track. He caught a glimpse of Kenshu Mei's powder  
blue parka paused on the path far ahead of him and forced back a hint of competitive  
irritation. Of course it was easier for her - Martians didn't mind thin air._ _

__He rapidly disciplined the internal complaint, lecturing himself about shugyo as he  
pushed his poles into the crusted snow and levered himself forward into the established  
trail. He was quite certain Kyle had something more resort-like in mind when he  
suggested skiing, and Bruce had to confess to visions of high speed downhill, but once  
J'onn entered into the planning? Bruce Wayne was startled to learn that New Concept  
Industries owned a cabin in the Rockies, isolated in a little private valley accessible only  
on foot or by helicopter in an emergency. And once the idea of using it was planted?  
J'onn insisted that it be their final date, that they make an overnight visit if they couldn't  
swing a whole weekend..._ _

__He caught up to Mei just as she was closing what seemed to be an oversized mailbox or  
some kind of wooden food safe perched near the side of the trail. Her backpack was  
resting at her feet, the top pocket open. "There you are," she remarked cheerfully as  
Bruce coasted to a stop. Her voice had a brittle loudness in the still cold, and it reached  
him faintly muffled through his hat and hood._ _

__Bruce offered a smile that he knew would be invisible under the scarf wrapped over his  
face. "Can't ditch me that easily," he shot back, pleased that he didn't sound as  
breathless as he felt. "What are you doing?"_ _

__Mei bent to close up her backpack, her gloved fingers fumbling with zippers and clasps.  
"Just leaving some pipe tobacco and books for Slow Fox." She glanced up at him as she  
hefted her pack and slung it over her shoulders, resettling the straps. "That way he  
knows we arrived and he'll stay clear of the cabin."_ _

__"Caretaker?" Bruce reached out to help resituated Mei's pack._ _

__"Something like that," Mei agreed. "Thanks." She took up her ski poles, which were  
leaning against a tree, and carefully lifted first one ski and then the other to resettle  
them in the track. "All right. Maybe fifteen minutes more. You holding up okay?"_ _

__There was a hint of teasing in Mei's tone, followed by a little laugh that suggested she  
*felt* Bruce's answering scowl. "I can keep up," he replied._ _

__A motion of Mei's hood suggested one backward glance as she said, "Good!" Then she  
was off, moving swiftly across the snow._ _

__She was taking her skis off outside the "cabin" when Bruce caught up with her again,  
her scarf and hood pulled down so Bruce could see the cold rosiness of her cheeks.  
Bruce wished there were more of a slope leading down to her so he could spray her  
with snow, but instead he had to struggle up a mild grade to the side of what seemed  
more like an Alpine chateau than a cabin. "Still worried about getting in a workout  
tonight?" Mei teased, lifting her skis and leaning them against the wall beside her._ _

__Bruce maneuvered around so he could sit beside her. "You should worry you wore me  
out for *any* kind of workout," he warned._ _

__Mei giggled, one hand over her mouth politely. "Poor Bruce. Do I need to teach you  
Martian mind tricks?"_ _

__Bruce set his ski poles aside and pulled his scarf down, watching his released breath  
cloud the air in warm puffs. "I think you might have to practice some Martian massage  
tricks." He stretched his arms and rotated his shoulders. They would be a little stiff in  
the morning, the muscles twinging from the less familiar lateral work he'd been  
demanding of them._ _

__Mei smiled and stood, slipping one foot between Bruce's skis in order to lean down and  
kiss his cheek. Her lips were warm against his chilled flesh. "Don't take too long to  
come in," she warned. "Your sweat will cool quickly."_ _

__He reached gloved hands out to rest against her well muffled body and pulled her  
closer in order to kiss her lips. "Mmm. And I've got the promise of something warm to  
come in to."_ _

__From this close, Bruce could see her eyes close beneath her sunglasses, and her teeth  
pressed against her lower lip as he released her from his kiss. "Don't make me wait too  
long," she said huskily. Then she cleared her throat and stepped clear of him. "See you  
inside."_ _

__Bruce caught her hand. "Promise?"_ _

__"All of me," she promised, slipping free of him and entering the cabin through a lean-to  
foyer._ _

__Bruce undid his skis quickly and followed Mei's example, leaving them leaning on the  
outside wall. His first couple of steps were stumbling as he adjusted to moving in his  
ski boots, but he was soon out of those as well, stripping them off in the foyer and  
setting them neatly beside the pair Mei had left. Parka and ski pants followed, hung on  
hooks clearly there for that purpose, and then he stepped into a spacious split-level  
dwelling, toasty warm despite the floor to ceiling windows that looked out over a  
spectacular view of the mountains._ _

__Mei was nowhere to be seen, but the sound of running water offered a clue to her  
whereabouts. The sound led him to a spacious bedroom, now hopelessly cluttered with  
various layers of Mei's clothing. The water sounds were coming from behind a closed  
door to the left - a door upon which Mei had affixed a piece of legal paper scrawled with  
coral colored lipstick. Bruce's lips curled up into a smile as he read the note and reached  
for the buttons of his flannel overshirt. "Join me."_ _

__^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ _

__It was good they arrived when they did, Bruce reflected, watching the swirling snow  
settle over the landscape. The scent of mulling cider filled the air of the cabin, evoking  
still distant holidays. Ace draped lightly over Bruce's frame, easily taking the form of a  
royal blue silk kimono - the color a mental suggestion from Mei, who had commented  
on how well it suited Bruce's coloring as she tied his belt. He was warm, well fed on a  
solid meal of venison and potatoes, comfortable, yet..._ _

__A set of arms wound around his waist from behind, accompanied by the slightest of  
mental touches that relaxed his suddenly tensed muscles before his fighting instincts  
kicked in. *It's just me.*_ _

__Bruce turned in the circle of Mei's arms. "You are the only person who can sneak up on  
me," he told her, bringing his own arms up in a loose embrace._ _

__She tightened her hold and leaned her cheek against his chest. "Something's troubling  
you."_ _

__He stroked his hand over the glossy length of her black hair. "Just wondering about  
your Native American friend."_ _

__"Native American friend?"_ _

__"The one you left the tobacco for?"_ _

__A chuckle sounded from Mei. "Slow Fox? He's not Native American."_ _

__"No?"_ _

__"No. Just a deluded New Yorker. He's a harmless old hermit, and he's fine. But you  
are trying to distract me rather than answer my question."_ _

__"I can never fool you, can I?"_ _

__"Not unless I want to be fooled," Mei agreed, leaning back from him so she could study  
his face. There was concern in her dark green eyes. "Talk to me, Bruce."_ _

__Bruce traced his fingers over her face before turning back to watch the snow. "I've  
been thinking about the last month," he confessed._ _

__Mei shifted so she was standing beside him, her fingers lacing into his. He watched  
their reflections, the Gotham billionaire and the pretty Japanese woman in matching  
kimonos. The window reflection had something of the effect of a fuzzy filter, obscuring  
Bruce's scars, making them look like Hollywood representations of lovers. "Are you  
annoyed that Clark is going to win the bet?" Mei suggested._ _

__One corner of Bruce's mouth quirked into an ironic smile, and internally, he smiled  
more deeply for the respectful way in which J'onn was NOT reading his thoughts, but  
rather letting him talk. "I knew Clark had the bet won on our first date," he revealed._ _

__Mei glanced at him. "Really?"_ _

__"When Sinclaire Johnson gave the maitre-d' at Maison l'Argent that tongue lashing for  
being a racist? That was ... a learning moment."_ _

__He saw a smile flit across Mei's face in the reflection. "You were surprised that I would  
make a scene?"_ _

__"I don't think it was that so much," Bruce denied. "Sinclaire is not exactly a character  
given to suffer in silence. It was more..."_ _

__Bruce trailed off, thinking. The sky was darkening outside, reducing visibility still  
further as the snow continued to fall. Mei raised his hand to her lips and kissed the back  
of it, a gesture of patience, letting him know she would listen as long as he would talk._ _

__"I - I think I'm actually a little ashamed of my reaction," Bruce decided._ _

__"You wanted to ravage me right there on one of the restaurant tables?" Mei suggested,  
a hint of a smile back on her face. "I often have that reaction to you."_ _

__"N-no," Bruce paused, suddenly hearing what Mei had said and blushing slightly. "Not  
that I didn't - I mean -"_ _

__Now Mei laughed lightly. "I so rarely fluster you," she delighted._ _

__Bruce gave her a sidelong look and then put an arm over her shoulders to give her a  
squeeze. "Another of your unique talents."_ _

__She leaned into him, relaxing into his warmth. "So are you going to tell me your  
reaction?"_ _

__He was quiet for a moment. "I was proud of you."_ _

__Mei did not respond immediately._ _

__"I don't really have a right to be," Bruce continued. "You're not my child or my protégé.  
I don't own you. And it wasn't like it was about what Sinclaire was doing. It was  
*you*. When you were standing there cutting that maitre-d' down to size with perfect  
rapid fire French, I wasn't seeing Sinclaire, I was seeing *you.* J'onn. And I was  
thinking 'it's about time.'"_ _

__Mei frowned. "About time?"_ _

__"Everything that you were saying as Sinclaire, about equal rights and dignity and  
respect - I know you were playing a role, but ... but that's you, too. *You* deserve all  
those things, and so often you just..." Bruce trailed off, feeling an unwelcome note of  
accusation coming into his tone. He wasn't upset with J'onn, he just -_ _

__*I understand,* J'onn's voice whispered in his mind. With the words came an  
inexpressible surge of love and warmth, and a faint sense of surprise that still  
occasionally radiated from J'onn at realizing how deeply Bruce loved him. Someday,  
Bruce vowed to himself, that surprise would disappear._ _

__Outside the window, the darkness had deepened. Now only the light from the cabin  
illuminated the falling snow, making a crazy, twisting sparkle of furiously swift white  
flakes seem to explode toward them out of nowhere. It was dizzying, but Bruce  
continued to watch, his thoughts elsewhere._ _

__He was almost startled when Mei's arm gave him another squeeze before releasing  
him. "I'm going to get us some cider," she said. "Maybe we can retire to the couch to  
talk some more?"_ _

__She didn't wait for the nod Bruce gave her, instead heading directly for the kitchen.  
Bruce watched her go, appreciating the slenderly strong legs that the kimono showed  
to such advantage. He had at one point been impressed at the variety of beautiful  
bodies J'onn managed to craft, no two alike and none less beautiful than another. Now  
he was beginning to suspect that he would find beauty in any identity J'onn assumed._ _

__He shook himself, now free of the mesmerizing effect of the snow storm, and turned to  
take a seat on the luxurious sofa that stretched nine feet long in front of a huge stone  
fireplace. His gaze settled emptily on the glass framed firebox as he once again lost  
himself in thought._ _

__"We could light it, if you like," Mei's voice suggested, drawing him out of his reverie._ _

__"Wh- no. J'onn - Mei - why-"_ _

__She handed him a mug of cider. "Isn't that the romantic thing to do when you're  
snowed in in the middle of nowhere? Curl up in front of a fire and - "_ _

__"And know that your lover is trembling in your arms from raw terror and not because  
of your technique?"_ _

__Mei shrugged and settled in on the sofa near to Bruce, bringing her legs up under her as  
she sipped on her beverage. "If it's behind the fire screen..."_ _

__"No," Bruce said flatly. He set his cider down on the broad coffee table and turned to  
watch Mei. She wasn't looking at him, was staring into the middle distance taking tiny  
sips of hot cider._ _

__He moved closer to her, his motion bringing her eyes questioningly to his face. He said  
nothing, just gently relieved her of her mug, which he set on the coffee table beside his  
own. He kept hold of one of her hands and studied her face earnestly for a long  
moment._ _

__Mei met his gaze steadily, and Bruce realized she was trying to open a way for him to  
talk about what he was feeling. He was not quite sure what inspired the fire  
suggestion, but it did jog something free in Bruce's mind, making him aware of a  
growing feeling he had not had words to express._ _

__"J'onn," he finally said, "this identity is lovely. They've all been lovely. But..."_ _

__He trailed off, and without further encouragement, Mei's features gave way to green.  
It was J'onn sitting beside him, there in his trueform, eyes regarding Bruce curiously  
but without judgment._ _

__Bruce ran his thumb over the green hand still clasped in his. "Thirty days. Thirty  
different lovers. It was... exciting."_ _

__J'onn nodded, resting the slender fingers of his free hand on Bruce's knee._ _

__"I - I won't lie to you - couldn't lie to you. I *like* variety. I like sex, as much as Alfred  
would be appalled to have me say so so baldly. But..."_ _

__J'onn's fingers gave a little squeeze, but he didn't interrupt, seeming to sense that Bruce  
needed to finish what he was saying._ _

__Bruce flashed him a grateful little smile before continuing. "I told you before, I fell in  
love with *you,* not any of the roles you play." Bruce stretched out a hand to touch  
J'onn's narrow cheek. "I like the array of beauties, I do. But I've been missing you."_ _

__J'onn's fingers left Bruce's knee to curl over the hand that Bruce still rested against  
J'onn's cheek. His eyes glowed. "I'm right here," he whispered._ _

__Bruce leaned forward, softly pressing his lips to J'onn's. He let his hands travel over the  
dry green skin, exploring the long, slender body. He finally broke the kiss with a sigh,  
pressing his forehead to J'onn's. "You are so beautiful," he breathed._ _

__J'onn remained still in his arms, and Bruce could sense a certain disbelief in him._ _

__Bruce leaned back a little. "You are," he insisted. "Your form is so... perfect to what you  
are, to who you are."_ _

__"Alien," J'onn stated quietly, gazing down at the hands that had settled into his lap._ _

__"J'onn," Bruce corrected. Then softly, almost hesitantly, "Light to the light."_ _

__J'onn's eyes shot up, and he studied Bruce wonderingly. "You remember that?"_ _

__"It is what your mother named you. I could not forget."_ _

__A sigh escaped J'onn, and he smiled tentatively. "You are a wondrous man, Bruce  
Wayne."_ _

__"Not yet," Bruce disagreed mildly. "I am still learning."_ _

__J'onn's smile grew, and he reached his arms around Bruce, drawing him down to lie  
beside him on the couch. He shifted as he moved to a more humanoid variation of his  
trueform, pressing a slim finger to Bruce's lips when his lover frowned. "Martians were  
not made to lie on their backs," he pointed out. "This is more comfortable for me."_ _

__Bruce nodded, resting his head on J'onn's shoulder. He breathed in the sandstone scent  
of his lover, content._ _

__"What else have you learned?" J'onn wondered, resting a hand on the leg Bruce hooked  
possessively around his midsection and running his fingers over it in little circles._ _

__Bruce's hand stroked over J'onn's chest, half surprised to find small breasts there to cup  
and cradle. "You don't-" he began, but J'onn shushed him._ _

__"Would you rather I grew chest hair to give your hands something to do?"_ _

__Bruce chuckled. "No," he allowed, letting the backs of his fingers trail down J'onn's side,  
smoothing his hand over green skin. He wondered if Ace's version of silk felt different  
to J'onn's senses than zo'ok's did. "I learned you cheat at football," he teased._ _

__J'onn's hand gave his thigh a playful slap._ _

__"Hey, it's true!" Bruce objected, rubbing his stinging flesh before settling his hand on  
J'onn's belly. He pulled himself a little closer to J'onn, nuzzling his cheek against J'onn's  
chest._ _

__"Scratchy," J'onn remarked, bringing his fingers to rub along Bruce's jaw._ _

__"Someone interrupted me before I could shave," Bruce observed._ _

__"Mmm," J'onn replied, giving Bruce a little squeeze._ _

__Bruce sighed comfortably, letting his hand again work its way up J'onn's torso as he  
thought. "I learned - no, realized-" he corrected, "that I have... issues... with control."_ _

__He waited for a smart comeback, but J'onn was listening now, recognizing the  
conscious struggle Bruce was having with this discovery. _ _

__"It would be very easy for me to... to use you," Bruce confessed._ _

__J'onn tightened his arm, and the hand that had returned to Bruce's thigh went still._ _

__"You can answer my physical desires so perfectly without me saying even a word. And  
having Batman and Bruce Wayne in the same place... I... have used... people before.  
People I love."_ _

__Bruce felt J'onn's face press against the top of his head in a gentle kiss. "You're getting  
better," he remarked._ _

__Bruce shook his head. "I need to learn... better... how to separate -" He paused,  
frustrated._ _

__"You don't want emotion to cloud your judgment in battle," J'onn offered, earning a  
nod from Bruce. "But -" he prompted._ _

__Bruce contemplated. "I don't want... I guess I don't want us to always be about what I  
want."_ _

__"We're not, you know."_ _

__"I know. Just... this bet..."_ _

__"I seem to recall that I picked the dog show," J'onn reminded him._ _

__"Yeah, but Desiree? That form?"_ _

__"And that day at the gym."_ _

__Bruce lifted his head a little. "J'onn."_ _

__"I'm just saying that we've both -"_ _

__"J'onn," he said again, frowning slightly._ _

__J'onn fell silent, his eyes staring at the ceiling as his hand traced circles against Bruce's  
shoulder._ _

__Bruce kept his tone gentle, not quite certain how to address what was bothering him  
without ordering or demanding. "We need to talk about that night in the Watchtower."_ _

__J'onn's hand paused for an instant, then began those lazy circles again. "Okay," he  
assented, a hint of reluctance in his voice._ _

__"I was... upset that you weren't a beautiful woman."_ _

__J'onn didn't say anything._ _

__Bruce pushed up, pulling free of J'onn's hand and propping himself up with one arm.  
He watched J'onn's face. "You... Kristin... was upset that I didn't want her."_ _

__J'onn nodded slowly. He was still staring at the ceiling._ _

__"Sit up," Bruce directed, pulling his own legs up._ _

__J'onn obeyed, sitting cross-legged and looking down at his lap._ _

__Bruce reached out, touching J'onn's cheek. "It wasn't just the persona that was crying."_ _

__"No," J'onn whispered._ _

__Bruce waited, not sure how far he should push, not used to taking the lead in this kind  
of conversation. Finally, "You were upset that I didn't want you."_ _

__J'onn raised his eyes mutely, and Bruce saw the hurt in them._ _

__"Oh, J'onn," he breathed, reaching out to hug his lover to him tightly. "I always want  
you. I love you. You are-" _ _

__Words failed him, and he tightened his hold desperately. "Please understand. Even  
when I'm being stupid. I need you. J'onn..."_ _

__J'onn's arms came up slowly, wrapped around Bruce. His face pressed into Bruce's  
shoulder, and they held each other in silence until J'onn finally raised his head and  
began kissing Bruce's face, softly but with a certain urgency. Their lips finally met, for  
reassurance rather than out of desire or lust, and Bruce began to stroke J'onn's back  
soothingly._ _

__J'onn relaxed his hold at last, pulling back with a self-conscious kind of gasping laugh,  
pressing his forehead to Bruce's. He licked his lips and seemed to search for words.  
"You're not the only one in this relationship who's learning, Bruce," he said hoarsely._ _

__Bruce closed his eyes and let one hand come up to the back of J'onn's head, pulling him  
forward for another kiss. He sent a tentative invitation through Ace: please, J'onn,  
open your mind to me..._ _

__There was the soft tickle of telepathic contact, and Bruce tried to convey how much he  
loved, how deeply..._ _

__J'onn pushed him back, toppling him onto the couch without breaking contact with his  
mouth. He straddled Bruce, kisses moving from lips to jaw line to throat to shoulder,  
then he settled his body against Bruce's, skin to skin, Ace taking its cue and shrinking  
down to a circlet on Bruce's wrist. Bruce brought his hands around the slim green back,  
feeling J'onn's body rippling against him, the soft press of J'onn's lips over the artery in  
his neck._ _

__*I need you, too,* J'onn projected. //*Half of my whole.*//_ _

__Bruce's mind thrilled at their vow, at their truth, his body alive under J'onn's touch. He  
touched J'onn's chin with his fingertips, leading lips again to lips. The kiss was tender,  
deep and soft at the same time. Knowing and known. Theirs, like everything else.  
Greater than 30 different entries into what was possible, a testament to what was.  
//*Whole of my half,*// Bruce finished the phrase, and in the silence of a snowy  
mountain night, they completed one another._ _

__end_ _

__***********************_ _

__EPILOGUE  
By Chicago_ _

__Disclaimers in "Opening Credits"._ _

__Rating: G_ _

__Clark Kent waited patiently in a line that wound through the cafe at the downtown  
Metropolis Boundaries. Soft classical music played soothingly over the store sound  
system, providing a pleasant background to the muted tones of conversation._ _

__"...never would've thought of that office note..."_ _

__"...my Frank was just..."_ _

__"...normally don't buy this kind of..."_ _

__The line shifted forward another few feet, and Clark tucked his book more securely  
under his arm._ _

__"...so romantic..."_ _

__"...wife didn't know what to say..."_ _

__"...everything she writes..."_ _

__Another bit of movement, and now Clark could catch glimpses of the table up front._ _

__"...best night since the kids..."_ _

__"...really adored..."_ _

__It was almost work to keep the faint smile off his face. After all, here he was just  
another fan, and one of only a handful of men on queue. He worked on cultivating the  
distant, I'm not really here gaze that marked the faces of the other males waiting there._ _

__The woman in front of him was at the table._ _

__"I can't tell you how much this book helped us. We were going through such a rough  
patch with me going back to work and Jerry changing jobs..."_ _

__And then it was his turn. He carefully pulled his book out from under his arm and  
opened it to the flyleaf, smiling at the slender woman sitting at the table._ _

__"Hello," she greeted. "Would you like this personalized or just-"_ _

__Clark cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um, if you could make it to Clark and Lois..."_ _

__The green-eyed blonde smiled. "Of course." She leaned over the book, her pen flowing  
across the page._ _

__"Here you go, Clark," she said when she was done, handing the book back with a  
twinkle in her eye. Clark accepted it and headed back out of the store, waiting until he  
was to the corner of the next street to open it and see what she had written. He  
grinned broadly at the words, closing the book as the light turned green to allow him  
to cross back to the Daily Planet building._ _

__He was mentally going through his schedule as he stepped into the elevator and  
headed back to the office, wondering what Lois would say when she read the message  
set down in a feminine hand on the fly leaf of his copy of "Revive your Romance:"_ _

__To Clark and Lois-  
Double Date next Tuesday?  
"Lavender Larkspur"_ _

__end  
_ _

*********

30/30 Out-Take: Date 4  
by Shadow Kyle  
Disclaimers: Damage, the Martian Manhunter and Wonder Woman are the property of DC Comics. Needless to say I don't get any money from this. I'm just taking Grant out for a ride and putting him away wet.

Continuity note: based on Show Business by Chicago, with all thanks to her for the beta and encouragement to play in her J'onnverse.

Rating: NC-17

 

"Why the hell didn't I just fly home?" Grant, the young hero infamously known as Damage, thought to himself.  
Grant sat in the back seat of a cab that had been stuck in a traffic jam for over an hour. What's more, he could see that there was no accident blocking the way. The constant chatter from the cab radio confirmed what he already knew. There were just a lot of cars on the streets now, what with the shows in the theatre district letting out. To top it all off, the cars on either side of him were so close he could not open the doors more than a few inches.

"Maybe I can just tear the roof off the car and get the Titans to pay for it," he mused. "Probably not. They'd probably want to see evidence of Metallo or some other crazy ripping through midtown."

"You say somethin', buddy?"

"Huh?" Grant shook his self out of his thoughts. "No, man. Just talking to myself."

The cab driver muttered something under his breath about another damned crazy fare.

Grant chose to ignore it. He glanced around the cab again for probably the thirtieth time since his imprisonment. On the floor were two candy wrappers, some chewed and abused gum stretched across the back of the front seat, and the cab driver's license info displayed on the Plexiglas partition between the seats. Nothing had changed. This was boring. This was like watching one of those nature documentaries with Gar. Gar always insisted that it was research. Grant believed Gar just got off on the mating season specials.

Suddenly the cab lurched forward and to the right, and then came to another stop. The right lane had moved a few more feet. Grant checked the doors again to see if he could escape. Nope, still stuck. Nothing'd changed at all. Well that wasn't true. The door to his right was now blocked by a stretch limo with black tinted windows.

"Must be nice," Grant thought.

"...so fun!"

"Excuse me?" Grant asked the driver who talking into the microphone of a headset. He turned around to face Grant.

"Oh, I though you were talking to me," Grant said, apologetically.

He considered trying to crawl out through the window when he heard another voice.

"...liked that, did you?"

"...and it was... so exciting..." the first voice responded. Definitely a male voice. It sounded familiar, but he could quite place it.

Grant twisted his head around looking for Gar and Roy. Of his friends, these were the two most likely to play this weird sort of prank.

"...I'd need to change...though..." the first voice said with a sultry undertone.

Grant was looking around the backseat of the cab for a speaker when he felt a soft pressure at his ear, traveling down his neck to his collarbone. He slapped at the touch, expecting to find a bug. The cab driver jumped at the sharp noise and turned to face Grant.

"I thought something was crawling on me," Grant explained when he realized there was no insect to be found.

Turning back around, the driver spoke into the headpiece, "Danny, how much longer 'dis traffic gonna last? I got a looney in here wit' me."

"... trying to get in your panties..." the second voice began again.

Grant felt on his thigh a caress slowly making it way up to his hip. He looked down to find that nothing was there on his leg, but he definitely felt the sensation.

"... good..."

"..how about..."

Grant gasped as he felt a pair of lips press against the flesh beneath his tight shirt. With wide eyes he stared down onto his pectorals. As the touch roamed across to each nipple, there was a firm squeeze. He watched as each one responded eagerly into a stiff aroused state. That wasn't the only thing was stiffening. With each caress and pinch, his cock throbbed and lengthened. He felt it slip out of his boxers and expand down his leg.

"...too... too sexy..."

Another hand slid up along his leg, brushing against his erection. He inhaled sharply as it continued further up, and then clutched at his hip.

"...I ...think... too sexy for you..."

"Oooh..."

The sensation of the hands left him and he found a moment to catch his breath. He looked up into the rearview mirror and saw that sweat was glistening on his brow. He also saw that the driver was looking at him out of the corner of his eye. When the driver caught Grant's eye he flashed knowing smile, one gold tooth glinting from the street lights outside.

Grant wondered if the driver was the one that was doing this, but didn't have a chance to ask as the unseen caress returned and was pressing against his balls.

Helplessly, Grant tried to stifle a moan.

"It shouldn't sound so... mmm..."

The hand began to move back and forth against him. It was moving to the rhythm of an unheard song, gliding back and forth over him. Light brushes fell across his weeping cock. A dark, wet stain spread across the jeans he was wearing. Another hand clutched at his hip, and then traveled down his thigh before firmly sliding back up and underneath his leg. He felt it squeeze the muscles in his ass while another hand continued massaging his cock and balls.

"...you liked that..."

Grant felt a surge of pleasure rush through his body and his mind was filled with images of a handsome man tugging on his cock while watching two women service each other. Flashes of the three in different combinations hit him so rapidly that he lost all sense of being. The last thing he remembered before sleep encompassed him was the trail of cum that was sliding across his thigh before being soaked into his jeans.

 

Grant woke to the voice of the cab driver.  
"Hey, buddy. We're here."

Grant blinked his eyes and saw that they were parked outside the brownstone building he had just moved into. Rousing himself from his still groggy state, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Thumbing through the bills there, he asked the driver the fare amount.

"No charge," the driver responded, grinning madly.

"You sure?"

"Positive. It's on me this time."

Grant opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. His jeans tugged at the hair on his legs where cum had dried much earlier.

"Oh, here."

The driver leaned out the window and offered Grant a card.

"If you ever need a cab, call this number," he said with a smile. "Ask for Vito."

 

"... and that was the first time that I started hearing other voices," Grant finished recounting his tale, and wished he could sink into the cushions of the chair. His face burned bright red and his ears felt as though they could burst into flames at any moment. This reminded him far too much of getting the birds and the bees talk when he was young. Or of going into the drugstore to buy his first condom. Or when Roy had 'accidentally' discovered the more interesting films in his video collection.  
After a few weeks of not being able to control the telepathy, he had finally asked the Martian Manhunter for help. It was an obvious choice since discovering that his powers stemmed from a mixture of DNA from many heroes, J'onn J'onzz included. In some respect, Grant supposed that made J'onn something of a father to him. Maybe more so than he thought. After he detailed the unwanted telepathic eavesdropping, he felt like he had confessed his first wet dream. Grant couldn't bring himself to look directly into the alien eyes of J'onn J'onzz.

J'onn watched the young man before him squirm in his seat. J'onn understood how he felt. As Grant had described the experience to him, J'onn remembered details of the night that Bruce had taken him, as Mona, to the theatre in New York. He also remembered the lovemaking that had occurred in the limousine while they were caught in the traffic jam. What he didn't remember was being so involved that he had let his shields down and was broadcasting their passion.

It was a good thing Grant was looking away for the moment. He would not see that J'onn was failing in his own battle to suppress the blush that had tinged his cheeks a darker shade of green.

"So, can you help me get this under control?" Grant asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

 

J'onn watched on the monitor as Grant left the Watchtower via the teleporter. Over the course of the evening he had taught Grant the basics of building shields to block unwanted thoughts from others. J'onn also stressed the importance of using the shields himself so as not to broadcast one's own thoughts unwittingly.  
"Much like you did that night," J'onn chastised himself as the teleported flashed. J'onn checked the computer display from the monitor room and saw that Grant arrived safely at his destination in New York.

J'onn relaxed in his chair, slouching uncharacteristically. The past few hours had been rather draining. Teaching a new telepath the basics of the power was hard enough, but to actually have to disguise your mental voice while doing it was something he had never tried before. It was necessary, he decided, lest Grant recognize him.

Still, despite how potentially embarrassing the situation could have been, it was rather exciting. Committing a wonton act of lust with the danger of being discovered preyed on his mind for the rest of his shift. Perhaps Bruce and he could explore this little bit of deviance together. Perhaps...

J'onn was roused from his daydream when the monitor displayed Wonder Woman appearing in the teleporter. He checked the time and realized that his shift was over. The Amazon had come to relieve him.

He greeted her and detailed the events he had monitored during his duty. He then raced to the teleporter, leaving a bemused princess to handle the world for a while. Right now, it was of utmost importance to see if he could get Bruce someplace where they, for once, wouldn't be alone.

 

End

*********

30/30 Out-Take: Date 28  
by Smitty  
Disclaimers: The usual. DC Comics owns Jack and Sand.

Continuity note: Sarah said (re: Date 28): "Who suggested *this* date? Please reveal!!" And since it kinda sorta reminded me of something I was working on... And I talked to Hotspur and he said he didn't have anyone specific in mind... And because they're pretty....

Rating: PG

 

Sand gnawed on his lower lip as his fingers hovered over the send key. He'd been very careful to make this request anonymous, creating a new email address and introducing the protocols necessary for posting on a meta board. Superman could still trace the IP address, but all it would show was that it came from JSA headquarters, not who had actually sent the email. He flexed his hand, curling his fingers into a fist.

He wasn't going to send it. It was too personal, too deep. Something that had woken him up one night, achingly hard, and wouldn't let him go until his mind had followed it through and his body right after. It was a fantasy, anyway, not a date, not really, and it wasn't something he would do himself, let alone suggest someone else undertake.

But J'onn wasn't him, and who knew what kinks Bruce Wayne might be hiding. It was just a suggestion, just something the sender- -the anonymous sender no less--would like to do. Nothing that had to be followed up. Sand squeezed his eyes closed and remembered Bruce Wayne--bigger than he looked in the press photos, broader across the shoulders and more chiseled--cradling the tiny body J'onn had formed for the occasion. If it was J'onn... his mind chimed in. Sand pushed the thought aside. It had to be J'onn. He and Jack had gone through the gossip rags and compiled a list of Bruce Wayne's activities of the last few weeks. Different women each appearance, and often several times a week. And what he wouldn't give to see beefy Bruce Wayne in leather. An almost undetectable shiver wound its way through his body and he thought about J'onn's range of female bodies and how they'd look wrapped around Bruce Wayne. Sand wasn't one to lust after celebrities, but knowing what he did made the entire scenario hot. He pictured Wayne thrusting into one lusty female body after another and wondered if his own silicon form would allow him to--No!

No, he wasn't going to send it. It was too voyeuristic and to be perfectly honest, it just hit a little too close to home for him. He flexed his hand again, drifting upward to the delete key, then back down again. No one would know...he would know....

"Yo! There you are!"

Sand jumped, his hand crashing down on the keyboard.

"Jack!" he exclaimed, blocking the computer screen with this body. "Don't scare me like that!"

"What are you doing?" Jack asked, trying to peer around his shoulder. "Looking at porn?"

"No," Sand protested with a scowl.

"Buying my birthday present?"

"Isn't that the same thing?"

Jack cackled delightedly. "I hope so. C'mon, what's got you so jumpy?"

Sand bit his lip and turned away cautiously. The computer screen proudly announced that his message had been sent.

"That's it? You're writing email?" Jack slid gracefully into Sand's seat and clicked in the web address box. "Over that...let's see how Big Blue's game's doing."

"No!" Sand exclaimed, leaning over Jack's chair and blocking the keyboard with his hands.

"No?" Jack raised an eyebrow and ran his eyes up Sand's arms to his face.

"I already checked it. Nothing new."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Well, good," Jack said, leaning back and swiveling the chair to face Sand. "In that case, let's talk about some of my favorite dates."

Sand moved one hand to the back of the chair Jack sat in, and closed his eyes against the dizzying sensations Jack's hands were causing.

After all, Jack in leather was a pretty nifty image, too.

 

The End?


End file.
